She moaned as his hands explored her body, fingers crushing against her panties under her skirt. . " "Uh-huh. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. ‘Ah.
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