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His hand glided along the voluptuary curve of her ass as they peered from a dark corner of the lobby into the gift shop. The shopgirl was closing up the store for the night, straightening the shelves in the half-light of the dimmed fluorescents. She wore a long, thin pencil skirt, a loose-fitting blouse. Her raven black hair fell freely over her shoulders. She moved with the fluid, natural grace of the young.
She seemed fully unaware she was being watched.
– from Closing Time, by J G Cain
