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"Want some more juice?"
"Uh, oh -- no, thanks." And I spot the book he described. It's on
the top shelf. I stretch on tiptoes toward it, but at 140 centimeters,
it's just beyond my fingertips.
"Here, I'll get that." He steps up behind me and reaches over me to
grab the book. I automatically settle back flatfooted and turning and my
hips brushes his thigh. I shiver at the contact.
He hands me the book. "Are you alright?"
"Oh, sure," I lie. "Just a little cold."
"I noticed," he says quickly and then blushes. "Sorry," he mutters
and moves away from me.
I glimpse my reflection in the mirrored tiles again and see how
prominent my nipples are against my blouse. A strange calm settles
through me. With it comes a strong tension that emanates from somewhere
inside me...between my hips.
"You're pretty observant today," I say quietly.
He sitting on the couch again, looking toward the kitchen. Slowly,
he turns his face toward me. He's looking at me quite differently,
almost speculatively. "I told you -- I pay
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