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218 was in his arms.
Her black bikini top was draped over my patio chair.
His linen pants were folded beside it.
His belt curled on the stone like a snake.
Her sundress lay half on the lounge chair and half on the patio floor.
Her sandals were tipped sideways as if she had stepped out of them laughing.
Her phone was faceup.
Three missed calls from Mark.
Her continue reading …
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