Lucy felt a finger tap her on the bra strap as she observed Michelle chatting with yet another passing group of people. ‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes.
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This video was uploaded to practical-tool.shop on 29-05-2024 07:13:49
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