"I'm sorry too. You can reach me at this address till May 31." It was almost the end of June. He emailed anyway; undeliverable. He knew she was active...in community affairs where she lived, and he found a website for a committee she served on that gave her work and home numbers--and an email address for her new job. He sent her an email immediately, telling her he'd gotten her last message late and hoping they could talk again. There was no answer. He called her office number. "Hello?" "Carol?". They went over a tolerably large ground-floor; a second floor consisted of a salon, a bathroom, and two bedrooms; near one of the bedrooms they came to a winding staircase that led down to the garden."Ah, here is a private staircase," said the count; "that is convenient. Light me, M. Bertuccio, and go first; we will see where it leads to." Monsieur," replied Bertuccio, "it leads to the garden." And, pray, how do you know that?" It ought to do so, at least." Well, let us be sure of that.". David? Yes that was his name. What happened? He drank something, and woke up here. He looked up to see the woman had turned her attention to him. He could see now that she had a beautiful face, and although very pale, was still pretty with petit features and bright green eyes. She looked like a northerner.“Are you alright? I found you in the alchemist’s shop, passed out. You looked like a corpse.”“I’m alright, thanks. Let me just-“ David tried to move his leg but nothing happened. “I can’t. Granted I didn’t anticipate any of this. “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that so hard,” he breathes out the side of his mouth as he begins to move his arms from my shoulders to my hips. I can feels his hands trembling but they steady and then the warmth hits me through my shirt. I can feel the restraint that he’s holding back. He wants more. I want more. I want him to taste me; I want to taste him. Our mouths wrap around one another as our lips slide back and forth. I slowly initiate my tongue onto.
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