#54901 - Ian sat back on his side of the table and lit up a fag All right? he asked me, looking exausted but less tense than before. We'd been writing to each other for two years, since I was 18, it had taken that long for me to gain his trust and for him to ask me to visit. He stubbed it out in the ashtray which was nailed to the desk, and then out of the blue he cupped his hand awkwardly round under the table and rested it on the warm crotch of my pink cotton knickers.
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