She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. “In all fairness,” she thought to herself as she coaxed his mouth toward her left nipple. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre.
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