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nd that somehow had more shape, more definiteness than Manami Suzuki had ever noticed
before. Manami Suzuki wanted to cup it in Manami's hand, to imagine the water filling and
spilling against Manami's fingers, Manami Suzuki could almost feel the rush and tingle from
inside; but putting Manami's hand as if to cover herself...no. An inverted modesty
kept Manami's from snatching at Manami's body, there or where Manami's breasts---normally
unobtrusive, gentle swellings that needed no special support and did little
to push out Manami's clothes---were suddenly sharply defined. Low on Manami's ribs,
but the nipples high, looking as emphatic as they unexpectedly felt; how had
they become points of *drama* in something so undramatic as the body she
lived and worked in every day?
"Magic," Manami Suzuki said. "Have you put an illusion on my dress, to look like
that? Have you put a glamour on *me*, to look like that? Or a glamour on
my mind, to *think* I look like that? You could do all those things to someone
who does have something underneath---I haven't said if *I* don't---and it would
look the same." The idea of mind-magic was an uneasy one, but then the
thought of such a glamour on the Manageress
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