"Do you like games," asked the ectomorph in the black turtleneck.
He ran a single, long, cool digit under the bunched black satin seam of Sandra's bustier. It felt so good to be touched like this again -oh!- his cocaine fingernail nicked her areola.
Comprehending, he sucked his gaunt cheeks into vast hollows, and his sleepy eyes narrowed in pleasure.
"Um, are like ALL of these paintings yours," she asked.