I began to discuss the results of our work, the prototypes we had undertaken, the success we had with those embodiments. Ellen leaned back on the sofa, comfortably. I paused, but she insisted I go on. The wrap fell loose, exposing the blue bottoms of her bikini between her lean, tan thighs. I swallowed dryly. The scent of a woman’s arousal, the spiced musk of passion, suffused the cool air. Ellen scratched an itch at the blue fabric’s edge.
Lord Malinov, Flowers of Malinov