Nor was there any hair. Forgetting herself she felt the smooth skin. The legs parted further. She kissed the thigh just above the knee and she heard a...gentle sigh. Encouraged, she kissed the top of the thigh and slowly moved higher. A hand appeared and firmly guided her head to the pussy’s opening.At the same time she heard, “Hello, Frank, nice to see you again. It’s been a couple of years. That new job looks like it’s treating you well.”A male voice responded but she could not hear the words.. .. is it true what they say about the ... er, bathhouses?"And suddenly, Huysmans had his inspiration for a story.The American walked down the cobblestone street as a dusk sky rapidly soaked up the spilled India ink of night. The cheap plexiglass sign announcing "HYTL NPRYMKCHK"— Hotel Nepomuk—was a blemish on the much older stone building behind it, all orientalist curves and filigree. The place he was going was not a hotel, and it certainly had nothing to do with St. John of Nepomuk, whose. More

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