She felt conscious of her nipples becoming visibly erect under the tight t-shirt and wished that she owned a thicker brassiere. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept. “Are you sick, Michelle? Maybe you should have stayed home. However, it don't signify. Stanley coughed and faced toward the house.
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