Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. She shuddered as his naked body pressed against her. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. He put it carefully aside, resolved to defer the attempt till night. “He just wants to get laid, you know. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment.
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