And there's your liver. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. More than this, it would serve to mitigate her own abysmal loneliness to pool it temporarily with his.
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