Now, I was still left with Avery at my feet and the others still staring at me, still waiting, still wanting. When he got me standing, my knees wouldn't hold, and he had to catch me around the waist. It is true, perhaps, that your beauty is not a flashy beauty, as is Asher's, or Jean-Claude's, or even your Nathaniel's, but it is beauty nonetheless. I just caught myself with his arm and chest, but the sight of me touching him like that sent more money onto the stage, and raised the frenzy of the women grouped around the stage.
I wasn't sure exactly what he was thinking, but at least it wasn't sad or angry. I touched his arm, tentatively, gently. Funny, I don't feel funny, Anita. More at the bend of his arm, his wrist.
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