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“I’ve never touched you,” Madeleine said. “May I touch you?”

I nodded. Last night Madeleine met me at her door, wearing white lace boy shorts. The sight of her, lean and naked save for the panties, was alluring. I felt my own body respond, my nipples tightening under the white wool coat. I didn’t dare speak, this Madeleine was a new creature.

She reached out to me as I stood there in the open doorway of her penthouse apartment. Through the wall of glass behind her the city skyline twinkled and flashed. She opened the buttons of my coat, slipped it off my shoulders and let it fall.

I stood there in my pajama pants and flats, my hair loose on my shoulders, arms at my sides.

She reached out to cup my breast, holding its weight in her palm like a newborn’s head. Just for a moment she only held me that way, then she brushed her thumb across my nipple and I gasped.

Somewhere behind me, I heard the ding of the elevator’s arrival. We still stood in her open doorway.

“You liked that?” Madeleine asked, a smile dazzling her face. It was a statement of wonder as well as a question.

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