#Chapter17

Maximillion's Point of View

In the shadows, his face was so close to mine that I could smell the sweet fragrance of the drink he had been drinking, and then my lips were on his pink plump ones. In all truth I had not invited this ideology of a tongue; turning, I had merely wished to look at his face, expecting only that the expression of aesthetic pleasure I might find there would correspond to what I knew was my own. But I did not even catch a glimpse of his face, so instantaneous and urgent was that tongue. Plunged like some writhing shape into my gaping mouth, it...