Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. Better get a dress. Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion. “Through there,” he said, and pointed with the pamphlet he was carrying. Oh, God!” Rhea sniffed the air through two gaping nostrils that had eroded through her onion skin flesh.
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