82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. She unlaced his pants and slid them down his hips, examining him as he stood before her naked. "Lend a hand with the ruffles, Blueskin!" he shouted, as that personage, who had just recovered from the stunning effects of the blow, contrived to pick himself up.
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