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Unformatted text preview: wreck. No kidding." She stepped back. There was a glimmer of tears in her eyes. She sniffled, and looked as if she might break down. She undid the buttons of the cotton dress, and then let it slip down around her. She stepped out of the circle of glowing fabric. And he saw her snow-white brassiere with its full cups of expensive lace, and the soft pale skin of midriff above the waistband of her half-slip. The tears spilt down again as they had before, her soundless crying. Then she rushed at him, and locked her arms around his neck, kissing him, and slipping her hand down between his legs. It was a fait accompli, as they say. And then there was her faint whisper as they snuggled together on the carpet. "Don't worry about it." He was sleepy; he listed; he didn't fall deep; he couldn't; there was too much right there before his mind's eye. He started humming. How could he not worry about everything? He could not close his eyes. He hummed and softly sang. "Violetta's waltz," she said. "Just hold on to me for a little while, will you?" It seems he...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10