Gianfrancesco’s had curved differently and was darker. The same overly curly pubic hair, which she now saw was trying to protrude from the sides of her bikini underwear. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. Maggot. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence.
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