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“What was she wearing?” Wendy, always the perfectionist, needed the details. ‘Shit,’ I thought to myself. It had been mid-August. Brenda was dressed in shorts and a cotton shirt. I had unbuttoned the shirt and found the clasp holding her bra in place. Though it had been over two years before, I could still feel her smooth skin as I rolled her tits in my hands. Wendy was wearing a silk dress with a mixed pattern of flowers, nuts, and berries, it was her Thanksgiving dress. “Something like this,” I whispered into her ear while unbuttoning the four buttons at the back of the dress. We had not taken Brenda’s shirt off, it had not been necessary. I had found the catch to her shorts and dropped them to her ankles. She had stepped out of them and kicked them to the side. All that remained were her panties. I could tell that Wendy’s lawyer mind was churning. Something was not right. Did Mrs. P really wear dresses with high collars and buttons in the back? I lifted the dress and Wendy raised. " Matt sipped his unfamiliar wine. Beer, ale, grog and plonk were his drinks."Did you know that Priscilla married?" Mrs. Conroy asked. "Just a fortnight past. Old Charles Carroll of Annapolis sat right where you are, the dear man."Matthew shook his head. "Hope she'll be happy," he said, smiling and raising his glass in a semi-toast, eager to ask his questions."Town's not very friendly to us, I fear," Mr. Conroy said. "Not that the Shore's much better. But t'was a happy wedding and a fine feast, under the circumstances." Sorry to hear that, sir. These are very hard times, for everyone. Reason I've come, it's about Elizabeth, sir, madam." Matthew carefully put down the thin-stemmed wine glass on a small round table and clasped his big hands between his upright knees."What about Elizabeth?" Anne said, bouncing into the room, her petticoats rustling, auburn curls tumbling. "Hello, Matthew. Are you still in the army? What'd I miss?" she asked her father, raking back her unruly hair. He.
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