She felt the bed move and a shift in his position. The she felt his face pressed there. Right there. Sucking at her clit. Licking at her swollen lips.... She felt his tongue widen and lap at her juices. His tongue slid down and pressed against her asshole. He slowly licked up all her wetness as he proceeded back up to her clit. He stopped there and her world went blank as he sucked her clit into his mouth and sent her deep over the edge. She convulsed with her first real orgasm of the day. Her. I surveyed the back garden, laying my wicked blade down on the floor.What I saw made me gasp in disbelief. There was, in the middle of the small back yard, a pale female figure lying naked in the moonlight. Her back was arched up, and her shoulders were back ? her hands grasping herself in the region of her pre-pubescent nipples. Her chin was high and I could see her dark hair spread out on the grass around her. She was writhing and bucking her hips, legs wide, as a small hound repeatedly. Your song has brought me to you, and now you will pay.You feel me watching you long before you see me. You look around, trying to find the source of your sudden breathlessness. Your body has reacted to my presence, my calling. Your heart responds to me, our pulses synchronizing, beating in time with the beat of the music that moves you. I order a glass of wine and press a $20 bill in the waitress' hand, with instructions to bring you to me when your set is done.You feel me watching you long. Villefort took a chair, but Valentine remained standing by her father's side, and Franz before him, holding the mysterious paper in his hand. "Read," said the old man. Franz untied it, and in the midst of the most profound silence read:"'Extract from the Report of a meeting of the Bonapartist Club in the Rue Saint-Jacques, held February 5th, 1815.'"Franz stopped. "February 5th, 1815!" said he; "it is the day my father was murdered." Valentine and Villefort were dumb; the eye of the old man.