Editing Swordplay
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β | Ezekiel walked up the steps, the clacking of his cane echoing in the stairwell. The men had judged enough time had | + | Ezekiel walked up the steps, the clacking of his cane echoing in the stairwell. The men had judged enough time had past and had sent him on his way. And he was thankful, for he found the entire ritual tiresome. He would have never said anything or acted in any way that would've indicated his true feelings, of course. But he had little interest in cigars. And while the port was enjoyable, the conversation, as it always did in these types of situations, ended up turning around to politics. And while he was not ashamed of his political positions, the night of his wedding was perhaps not the night to get into an argument with his future father-in-law. |
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β | "The metal blade has done its work, my husband," she said softly and slowly, her voice deep with desire. "How do I now engage your other sword?" The forefinger of her free | + | "The metal blade has done its work, my husband," she said softly and slowly, her voice deep with desire. "How do I now engage your other sword?" The forefinger of her free hands deftly traced the line of his lips as her blade stopped precariously close to his crotch and then she ran her thumb along his jaw before delicately stroking his chest with the tips of her nails. The tiniest of smiles traced along her lips, betraying the serious concentration on her face. |