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I stood and stared at the bronze in front of me. There was something disturbingly familiar about it, something that brought back memories of a time long past but not forgotten. I looked at the card on the pedestal that told me that the artist, Felicity Cullen, was one of the brightest new sculptors in the art scene, and there was the prediction of great things to come for her burgeoning talent. I didn’t recognise the name, I’d been out of this scene for some twenty years, but I did recognise the talent because I had seen it before, many years ago. ‘Do you like it?’ I turned and looked into the eyes of another memory although these could not be the same eyes as I remembered. ‘This is your work?’ ‘Why yes, why do you ask?’ ‘I don’t know. I just have this feeling in the back of my mind that I have seen this or at least something similar many years ago. I must be mistaken, forgive me.’ ‘No need to apologise, I think all artists are guilty to a certain extent of copying the influences of. "The days of frustrating peeks of her body, the kinky deals instigated by her and even the way she had calmly drew my cock from my jeans the night before so as to fuck her there standing in the hallway - it was all coming together. That book - 'Mothers Manifesto' - had to have been a hell of a book to change the mother I remembered only a short while before into this naked sexy woman before me."So John and his mom?"Mom nodded affirmatively. "She was the one that handed me the book. It worked wonders for their relationship." Mom had slipped forwards on the seat, sitting almost anxiously towards me."And what you were saying to Jude?"Mother's face again began to turn red in embarrassment - but not as deep a colour as before. "It is true my love I can't resist you. I just have to look at you to know it. It warns about letting this happen, that I should be the one that calls the shots - but god help me but I can't." She looked about to cry and my heart suddenly filled with empathy for this.
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Hippolyte Fauville was evidently asleep."Capital!" said Perenna to himself. "The boulevard is watched. No one can enter the room except by this way. So there is nothing to fear."At two o'clock in the morning a car stopped outside the house, and one of the manservants, who must have been waiting in the kitchen, hastened to the front door. Perenna switched off the light in the passage, and, drawing the curtain slightly aside, saw Mme. Fauville enter, followed by Silvestre.She went up. The lights on the staircase were put out. For half an hour or so there was a sound overhead of voices and of chairs moving. Then all was silence.And, amid this silence, Perenna felt an unspeakable anguish arise within him, he could not tell why. But it was so violent, the impression became so acute, that he muttered:"I shall go and see if he's asleep. I don't expect that he has bolted the doors."He had only to push both doors to open them; and, with his electric lantern in his hand, he went up to the bed..

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