She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. She moaned as his hands explored her body, fingers crushing against her panties under her skirt. They lived alone, mainly inhabiting the castle’s upper floors. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. Unexpectedly he found himself speeding toward the father. Lucy slipped upstairs silently. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely.
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