She touched his face with her fingers, moving closer to him.“Thank you. I’ve had a lovely time. It’s all so new but so exciting. Did she tell you what we did?“No”“I don’t know if I should tell you. It’s so naughty!” giggled Lauren.“Go on, tell me!” he said, pretending to bite her arm.“She took some pictures of me - like sexy pictures - just for fun. I might let you see them.” teased Lauren.“I don’t want to”“Why?”“The real thing is better!”Lauren pulled him round the edge of the chair so that he knelt between her legs, making sure her dress was pulled down to cover her knickers. He rested his hands on her knees as she leaned forward to kiss him on the lips, taking his face between her hands. She felt his tongue, darting between her teeth, searching and probing as her pulse quickened. His hands moved down her legs to her shoes, caressing her as she responded urgently with her own tongue.“Your legs are beautiful, Lauren. You look so good in these clothes.”She leaned back in the chair,. Cavalcanti, dressed in black, like one of Goethe's heroes, with varnished shoes and white silk open-worked stockings, passed a white and tolerably nice-looking hand through his light hair, and so displayed a sparkling diamond, that in spite of Monte Cristo's advice the vain young man had been unable to resist putting on his little finger. This movement was accompanied by killing glances at Mademoiselle Danglars, and by sighs launched in the same direction. Mademoiselle Danglars was still the same--cold, beautiful, and satirical. Not one of these glances, nor one sigh, was lost on her; they might have been said to fall on the shield of Minerva, which some philosophers assert protected sometimes the breast of Sappho. Eugenie bowed coldly to the count, and availed herself of the first moment when the conversation became earnest to escape to her study, whence very soon two cheerful and noisy voices being heard in connection with occasional notes of the piano assured Monte Cristo that.
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