Holding the lamp over her rigid but beautiful features, Jonathan, with some anxiety, placed his hand upon her breast to ascertain whether the heart still beat. Michelle awoke suddenly, violently. She writhed in ecstasy as she wrapped her legs around his waist, then raised her knees to his shoulders. That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write. I keep my finger on the pulse of things.
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