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Once undressed, John helps him slip the piece of new clothing over the top of his head. It floats down the length of his body, fluttering coolly against his skin. Arthur turns towards the mirror above the sink, smoothing his hand along one side of the fabric, its silken texture an invitation he could not stop admiring.
“This isn’t a dress, John,” Arthur says as it dawns on him. “It’s a nightgown.”
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Bookmark Notes:
OUGH. AOUGH
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Bookmark Notes:
MFL D
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