Best 65 quotes in «teasing quotes» category

  • By Anonym

    As we hop out of the truck and head towards the entrance, I tell Cole that it's okay and let him know that he's not the first straight guy that I've been with. He asked, "You've been with other STRAIGHT guys?" "Yeah. So don't worry. You don't ever have to do ANYTHING that you don't wanna do. And we can do whatever you want ANYTIME you want. Or NEVER do it again. Alright?" He laughed, "I KNEW that you were a little whore." I chuckle with delight.

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    According to horses, a good friend is someone who listens, appreciates your company and teases you, but is protective at the same time.

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    Ah, now,” crooned Adam, “here we are, then.” With infinite care, as though he were handling a babe, he lifted the sword out, and a sigh seemed to go through him. “Ah, my lovely, it’s been far too long.” “Shall I leave you two alone, then?” Eliza’s lips twitched. She’d never seen such a look of reverence mixed with old familiarity. It was nearly indecent. Adam spared her a glance. “Quiet woman, a man’s relationship with his sword is a sacred thing.” “So I’ve heard.

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    As much as Milly loved seeing Asa on that tractor, a part of her dreaded the days he came to mow, not only because her father made her go out to him with cookies and lemonade and watched her closely the entire time, but also because on those nights, Bett and Twiss would trick her into talking about Asa, and Milly would fall for their tricks. Milly understood Twiss's reasons for teasing her- Twiss didn't want to lose her- but she never understood Bett's. Bett would start innocently enough. "I heard Milly was talking to someone in the meadow the other day. I heard she baked him a red velvet cake shaped like a heart." "I heard she did more than that," Twiss would say. "With Mr. Peterson." "She likes them old, yep, she does." "Wrinkly," Bett would say. "Hairy." "Pruney!" When Milly could no longer stand the teasing, she'd pull her blanket over her head and say, "It wasn't Mr. Peterson I was talking to, it was Asa! And it wasn't red velvet cake, it was butter cookies! They weren't shaped like hearts, either!" And then the laughter would come, and Milly would know she'd been fooled into giving up another part of herself that she preferred to keep secret. The night she first told them about how much she admired Asa's work ethic (when she really just meant him), Bett and Twiss had made fun of her, and of Asa's slight stutter. "M-M-May I eat one of your cookies?" "Y-Y-Yes, you may." "M-M-May I love you like coconut flakes?" "L-L-Love me like coconut flakes, you may." They laughed when they said the word "love," but that was the word Milly had begun to think about- the possibility of it- whenever she was with Asa and, even more often, when she was without him. The word was with her when she pinned clothes to the line, or scrubbed the linoleum, or baked a pie. Sometimes, when no one was looking, she'd trace an A into a well of flour or hold a mop as though she were holding Asa's hand.

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    A bully is nothing more than a bunch of bull with a Y attached to its rear.

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    And then he asked me how I felt about you.” Now I put real effort into wrestling out of his choke hold, eventually succeeding. I pull back and stare at Shane, horrified. “He didn’t.” “He did.” His expression is carefully blank, dark eyes fathomless. “And…you said…” “I said…” “That you’re in awe of me?” “Uh-huh.” “That you admire my work ethic?” “Yep.” “And envy my wicked sense of humor?” “No.” “My fabulous legs?” “Meh.” “You lie!

  • By Anonym

    Don't tease me. Everything wounds me now except perfect kindness.

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    Don’t grumble,” I said. “Or I’ll bake you more cookies.

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    Don’t worry. I know she’s your sister. I’ll treat her right. In bed and out. I’m willing to listen to any objections you may have, though. No? Nothing? Okay, then.

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    Daniel's chocolate eyes studied her, and a wave of heat stung her cheeks. What did he think? He said nothing, just raked her with a gaze that made her feel self-conscious and gangly. He stood and held out his hand. I'd better take my gun. Confusion thickened her tongue. Your gun? I'll have to protect you from the other men. He grinned but the admiration in his eyes was clear.

  • By Anonym

    Don’t tease,” she muttered, trembling with need. “I can’t bear it.” “Sweetheart…” His silky whisper caressed her cheek. “I’m afraid you’ll have to.” “Wh-why?” She caught her breath as he withdrew, giving her only the tip of his shaft. “Because there’s nothing I love more than teasing you.

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    Dork," I chastised affectionately. But his cheesy exclamation was something I was okay with. I smiled up at him. His hazels danced with mischief. "Okay," I agreed. The mischief turned to triumph. Damn those magic eyes!

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    Dragons are among the most ancient spirits. Their origins are not known, but they significantly predate the rise of man. [This author advises the reader never to ask a dragon about the early days of humanity, as they tend to remark that we were much more entertaining as a species before we climbed down from the trees.]

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    He felt a stab of satisfaction at the way her cheeks colored and her eyes darkened with trepidation. Her emotions showed readily on her face. She had translucent skin that colored easily, and it would be tempting to spend his time provoking a reaction out of her. She was a match for him in more ways than one.

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    He laughs. "No! Aguaje is for girls. If a man eats to much of it, he starts to look like a woman." "That is the most unscientific thing I've ever heard." "Then you haven't met my cousin Jacari." Eio swings the string of fruit back and forth. " Too much aguaje. Now the mothers use him as wet nurse." My mouth freezes in mid-bite, and I stare at him. "You're teasing me." A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe.

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    He took great pleasure in teasing her; he’d decided that Bee was no name for a person, and that it must just be the first letter of her real name. So every time he came in, he addressed her by a new and awful name that started with B.

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    He slouches,' DeeDee contributes. 'True--he needs to work on his posture,' Thelma says. 'You guys,' I say. 'I'm serious,' Thelma says. 'What if you get married? Don't you want to go to fancy dinners with him and be proud?' 'You guys. We are not getting married!' 'I love his eyes,' Jolene says. 'If your kids get his blue eyes and your dark hair--wouldn't that be fabulous?' 'The thing is,' Thelma says, 'and yes, I know, this is the tricky part--but I'm thinking Bliss has to actually talk to him. Am I right? Before they have their brood of brown-haired, blue-eyed children?' I swat her. "I'm not having Mitchell's children!' 'I'm sorry--what?' Thelma says. Jolene is shaking her head and pressing back laughter. Her expressing says, Shhh, you crazy girl! But I don't care. If they're going to embarrass me, then I'll embarrass them right back. 'I said'--I raise my voice--'I am not having Mitchell Truman's children!' Jolene turns beet red, and she and DeeDee dissolve into mad giggles. 'Um, Bliss?' Thelma says. Her gaze travels upward to someone behind me. The way she sucks on her lip makes me nervous. 'Okaaay, I think maybe I won't turn around,' I announce. A person of the male persuasion clears his throat. 'Definitely not turning around,' I say. My cheeks are burning. It's freaky and alarming how much heat is radiating from one little me. 'If you change your mind, we might be able to work something out,' the person of the male persuasion says. 'About the children?' DeeDee asks. 'Or the turning around?' 'DeeDee!' Jolene says. 'Both,' says the male-persuasion person. I shrink in my chair, but I raise my hand over my head and wave. 'Um, hi,' I say to the person behind me whom I'm still not looking at. 'I'm Bliss.' Warm fingers clasp my own. 'Pleased to meet you,' says the male-persuasion person. 'I'm Mitchell.' 'Hi, Mitchell.' I try to pull my hand from his grasp, but he won't let go. 'Um, bye now!' I tug harder. No luck. Thelma, DeeDee, and Jolene are close to peeing their pants. Fine. I twist around and give Mitchell the quickest of glances. His expressions is amused, and I grow even hotter. He squeezes my hand, then lets go. 'Just keep me in the loop if you do decide to bear my children. I'm happy to help out.' With that, he stride jauntily to the food line. Once he's gone, we lost it. Peals of laughter resound from our table, and the others in the cafeteria look at us funny. We laugh harder. 'Did you see!' Thelma gasps. 'Did you see how proud he was?' 'You improve his posture!' Jolene says. 'I'm so glad, since that was my deepest desire,' I say. 'Oh my God, I'm going to have to quit school and become a nun.' 'I can't believe you waved at him,' DeeDee says. 'Your hand was like a little periscope,' Jolene says. 'Or, no--like a white surrender flag.' 'It was a surrender flag. I was surrendering myself to abject humiliation.' 'Oh, please,' Thelma says, pulling me into a sideways hug. 'Think of it this way: Now you've officially talked to him.

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    High school will probably be better. I mean, some kids will still be jerks, but it's not so bad if you have at least one good friend. Someone who gets you.

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    Hey, ghosts are nothing to laugh at! Whether or not you believe in them, they’re out there. I’ve seen them. I’ve even heard them.

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    Hey, A-D-D,” she called out to Claire, “come over and try these on.

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    -Humph! Said Ami as she then quickly pulled ahead of me, having grown tired of my silent treatment. However, as she slipped by, I couldn’t resist quickly reaching over and flipping-up the back of her skirt, just enough to see that she had a panda on the back of her panties, my fingers never touching her ass, yet I could feel the warmth underneath. -Nice bear behind you got there! So I said She froze in mid step, and looked as if she was going to turn around, but instead she shuttered as if a tingling electric shock had gone all through her body. I then noticed that the back of her neck to the roots of her hair had turned a lobster red! Though whether that was because of embarrassment or anger or both I’m not sure. In any case, Ami’s hands became tight fists, and then with a growl like a tigress she quickly stomped off. I have actually heard a growl like that since that time. It’s the sound of a female Nepali snow leopard, in heat, just before it pounces on a potential mate.

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    I can see how your mother would have a point. Having a debate with a politically minded woman can be intriguing and even entertaining but to share a house with her and have her always campaigning and protesting at the dinner table,” he slanted his gaze down toward me. “That could be very tiring indeed.

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    I jokingly asked if his friends teased him for being a feather thief, but his face clouded at the word thief. “I try to refrain from certain words,” he said. “Thief is one of them. This is going to sound very strange, but I don’t feel like a thief.

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    I caught him by the collar and dumped him into the nearest bin. "That's where people like YOU belong!" I spat at him as his legs wiggled in the air. "In the garbage!" - Chapter 2: Miserable Torture

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    ...It also taught me that while cruelty can be fun for a few moments, compassion has a much longer shelf life.

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    Look, Madeline," Lady Gertrude said, "everyone's gaping at you!" "I know." The future duchess stared straight ahead, her shoulders stiff, her back straight. Never had Remington seen a woman less comfortable with her own distinction. Never had he enjoyed the success of his own plan quite so much. The ton adored only one thing more than a romance, and that was a scandal. He had- and would- give them both. "Maybe it's because of your hair," he murmured. Madeline shot him a glare.

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    I think I know more about you at age seven than you do," Henri teased. "Do you, now?" she asked, happy he couldn't see her blushing since she sat in front of him on their steed. "Yes," he said confidently. "I know you always preferred the colors blue and yellow to any other. You were excellent at hide-and-seek. You hated cold porridge, and my personal favorite- you named every horse in the royal stables and liked to put bows on them when allowed." She colored some more and burst out laughing. This she did not remember! "I did not! Did I?" Henri laughed, too. "Apparently you did, driving the royal seamstress crazy with your requests for ribbons and bows for the royal steeds.

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    It's part of the marriage vows. Didn't you read the fine print? To have and to harass.

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    Marianne was vexed at it for her sister's sake, and turned her eyes towards Elinor to see how she bore these attacks, with an earnestness which gave Elinor far more pain than could arise from such common-place raillery as Mrs. Jennings's.

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    Nonetheless, with tears coming to her eyes she was also recalling every time that she had been cruelly teased and bullied for no reason that she could relate to. None of it had ever been physical, yet somehow the names she had been called, and the remarks made about her family, had scarred Lakshmi far deeper and more perpetually then any hand could have inflicted.

  • By Anonym

    No! Aguaje is for girls. If a man eats to much of it, he starts to look like a woman. That is the most unscientific thing I've ever heard. Then you haven't met my cousin Jacari. Too much aguaje. Now the mothers use him as wet nurse.

  • By Anonym

    ... Mary bit her lip. “She is merely saying hello.” Oh, I am, Tottie agreed. I’ve been wanting to say hello to Mr. Jack for an age, personal-like. Her hand glided over his chest and headed down. Such a fine cocky fella, ye are. Shall we see if it’s all just tall tales, then, me lad?

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    Minutes later, as they lay tangled together, dazed in the aftermath of their loving, Callie began to chuckle silently against Gabriel's side. Lifting his head to find her grinning a wide, silly grin, he drawled, "What is it that has you so amused, lovely?" "I was simply thinking"- she stopped to catch her breath from the laughter and started again- "I was merely thinking that if that is what riding astride is like, the female population is missing out on one of life's finer experiences." The last word was lost as she dissolved once more onto giggles. He caught her against him in a fierce hug and sighed, unable to keep himself from smiling up at the ceiling as he said, "You know, Empress, men do not appreciate laughter at this particular moment. It's devastating to the self-confidence." Her head snapped up and she took in his amused countenance. "Oh, my apologies, good sir," she teased. "I would hate to damage such a fragile ego as that of the Marquess of Ralston." With a playful growl, he pinned her to the mattress. "Minx. You shall pay for that." And he began to kiss down the side of her neck, nibbling across her collarbone until she sighed with pleasure. "If this is how I must pay for it, my lord, you may guarantee I shall tease you a great deal in the coming months." "More than months, I hope," he drawled, distracted by her lovely white breasts. "Years. Decades even." "Decades," she repeated, awestruck. My God. He's going to be my husband. "Mmm-hmm," he murmured against her skin before pulling away from her. "Which is why, despite how very difficult it shall be for me to leave you warm and lush in your bed, I shall console myself with the fact that, very soon, I shan't have to do so ever again.

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    Mr. Crawen," Tabitha said casually, "we brung a new girl for ye to try out. She's been waiting to give ye a little knock." Eyebrows were raised and a few glances exchanged across the table, for the prostitutes usually knew better than to intrude on a game. Derek gave Tabitha a quizzical frown. "Tell her I don't tumble the house wenches." He turned away dismissively. Tabitha persisted with glee. "But she's a nice, fresh one. Why don't you take a look?" Giggling, the wenches brought Sara forth. She was flushing and protesting, trying to remove the spangled tuft of of plumes they had tucked behind her ear. Derek laughed suddenly, his expression lightening. He pulled Sara into the crook of his arm. "This one I'll take," he murmured, bending to kiss her temple.

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    Oh no. Oh God. I couldn't possibly be so stupid." "Don't limit yourself. You can be anything you wish.

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    Now you're uncomfortable?' Leander smirked, 'After all that?' 'That's different,' Axton said, sitting up and pulling a pillow to his chest, unconsciously hiding. 'Fine,' Leander said, rolling his eyes, 'You have these stupid gold eyes, something something, I love looking into them, PS: fuck you. Is that better?

  • By Anonym

    Pointed teeth would give one an appearance of ferocity," he said, tapping a straight white tooth. "Although that might require one to follow through with biting someone from time to time, and the thought is enough to make one feel ill. I don't even like my meat cooked rare.

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    Once upon a time, I wish I had sneezed. The end.

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    Opening the lid, Beatrix found her neatly folded clothes and a drawstring muslin bag containing a brush and a rack of hairpins, and other small necessities. There was also a package wrapped in pale blue paper and tied with a matching ribbon. Picking up a small folded note that had been tucked under the ribbon, Beatrix read: A gift for your wedding night, darling Bea. This gown was made by the most fashionable modiste in London. It is rather different from the ones you usually wear, but it will be very pleasing to a bridegroom. Trust me about this. -Poppy Holding the nightgown up, Beatrix saw that it was made of black gossamer and fastened with tiny jet buttons. Since the only nightgowns she had ever worn had been of modest white cambric or muslin, this was rather shocking. However, if it was what husbands liked... After removing her corset and her other underpinnings, Beatrix drew the gown over her head and let a slither over her body in a cool, silky drift. The thin fabric draped closely over her shoulders and torso and buttoned at the waist before flowing to the ground in transparent panels. A side slit went up to her hip, exposing her leg when she moved. And her back was shockingly exposed, the gown dipping low against her spine. Pulling the pins and combs from her hair, she dropped them into the muslin bag in the trunk. Tentatively she emerged from behind the screen. Christopher had just finished pouring two glasses of champagne. He turned toward her and froze, except for his gaze, which traveled over her in a burning sweep. "My God," he muttered, and drained his champagne. Setting the empty glass aside, he gripped the other as if he were afraid it might slip through his fingers. "Do you like my nightgown?" Beatrix asked. Christopher nodded, not taking his gaze from her. "Where's the rest of it?" "This was all I could find." Unable to resist teasing him, Beatrix twisted and tried to see the back view. "I wonder if I put it on backward..." "Let me see." As she turned to reveal the naked line of her back, Christopher drew in a harsh breath. Although Beatrix heard him mumble a curse, she didn't take offense, deducing that Poppy had been right about the nightgown. And when he drained the second glass of champagne, forgetting that it was hers, Beatrix sternly repressed a grin. She went to the bed and climbed onto the mattress, relishing the billowy softness of its quilts and linens. Reclining on her side, she made no attempt to cover her exposed leg as the gossamer fabric fell open to her hip. Christopher came to her, stripping off his shirt along the way. The sight of him, all that flexing muscle and sun-glazed skin, was breathtaking. He was a beautiful man, a scarred Apollo, a dream lover. And he was hers.

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  • By Anonym

    Stop this. You're amusing yourself at my expense, as usual. You are a dissipated scoundrel, an unprincipled cad, and-" "Don't forget 'lecherous libertine,'" he said. "That's one of my favorites." "Get out!" He pushed away lazily from the dressing table. "All right. I'll go. Obviously you fear that if I stay, you won't be able to control your desire for me." "The only desire I have for you," she said, "involves maiming and dismemberment." Leo grinned and went to the door. Pausing at the threshold, he glanced over his shoulder. "Your spectacles are fogging again," he said helpfully, and slipped through the door before she could find something to throw.

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    She wants to drive me crazy so that I’ll want her even more. She’s teasing me. That’s what women do. You ever heard of a man doing this? Course not.

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    Stop teasing me, doc. You haven't got the tits for it.

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    Tumble me down, and I will sit Upon my ruines (smiling yet:) Teare me to tatters; yet I'le be Patient in my necessitie. Laugh at my scraps of cloathes, and shun Me, as a fear'd infection: Yet scarre-crow-like I'le walk as one, Neglecting thy derision.

  • By Anonym

    There was also a package wrapped in pale blue paper and tied with a matching ribbon. Picking up a small folded note that had been tucked under the ribbon, Beatrix read: A gift for your wedding night, darling Bea. This gown was made by the most fashionable modiste in London. It is rather different from the ones you usually wear, but it will be very pleasing to a bridegroom. Trust me about this. -Poppy Holding the nightgown up, Beatrix saw that it was made of black gossamer and fastened with tiny jet buttons. Since the only nightgowns she had ever worn had been of modest white cambric or muslin, this was rather shocking. However, if it was what husbands liked... After removing her corset and her other underpinnings, Beatrix drew the gown over her head and let a slither over her body in a cool, silky drift. The thin fabric draped closely over her shoulders and torso and buttoned at the waist before flowing to the ground in transparent panels. A side slit went up to her hip, exposing her leg when she moved. And her back was shockingly exposed, the gown dipping low against her spine. Pulling the pins and combs from her hair, she dropped them into the muslin bag in the trunk. Tentatively she emerged from behind the screen. Christopher had just finished pouring two glasses of champagne. He turned toward her and froze, except for his gaze, which traveled over her in a burning sweep. "My God," he muttered, and drained his champagne. Setting the empty glass aside, he gripped the other as if he were afraid it might slip through his fingers. "Do you like my nightgown?" Beatrix asked. Christopher nodded, not taking his gaze from her. "Where's the rest of it?" "This was all I could find." Unable to resist teasing him, Beatrix twisted and tried to see the back view. "I wonder if I put it on backward..." "Let me see." As she turned to reveal the naked line of her back, Christopher drew in a harsh breath. Although Beatrix heard him mumble a curse, she didn't take offense, deducing that Poppy had been right about the nightgown. And when he drained the second glass of champagne, forgetting that it was hers, Beatrix sternly repressed a grin. She went to the bed and climbed onto the mattress, relishing the billowy softness of its quilts and linens. Reclining on her side, she made no attempt to cover her exposed leg as the gossamer fabric fell open to her hip. Christopher came to her, stripping off his shirt along the way. The sight of him, all that flexing muscle and sun-glazed skin, was breathtaking. He was a beautiful man, a scarred Apollo, a dream lover. And he was hers.

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    Twinkle twinkle little star, I want to hit you with a car. Throw you off a bridge so high, Hope you break your neck and die.

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    We're leaving," I told her one July afternoon. "We? You and I? Where are we going, young Master Paul? Do you have your belongings tied up in a red-spotted handkerchief on a stick?

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    Watch it, nasty boy, or I might jest have you fixed, iffin you not careful.

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    We’re your friends. Our job is to tease you mercilessly about your foibles, rag you about your upright, honorable nature, and point out to you when you’re being a complete dolt.

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    We sat there smiling at each other, shimmied to a standstill, thinking about all the boys that had wanted us that day, and how none of them had got us, not for a minute; how we'd let them pay for drinks and candyfloss and then run away laughing, their cries of 'Slags!' and 'Bitches' ringing in our ears like respect rather than derision.

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    What a pleasant gentleman," Sophia remarked. "Yes," Eliza agreed with a chuckle, "and Dr. Linley is unmarried as well. Many fine ladies in London want his services, both professional and personal. Whoever brings him to scratch will be a lucky woman." "What do you mean by personal services?" Sophia asked, perplexed. "Surely you are not referring to-" "Oh, yes," the cook-maid said slyly. "They say Dr. Linley is skilled in the bedroom arts as well as-" "Eliza," Sir Ross interrupted grumpily, "if you must engage in prurient gossip, please do it in a room where I am not forced to listen." He scowled at both women, his gaze settling on Sophia. "Surely there is something better for the two of you to discuss than 'bedroom arts'." Sophia's laughing gaze met Eliza's. "He is quite right," she said. "We should not lower ourselves to gossip in front of Sir Ross." She paused before adding mischievously, "You can tell me the rest about Dr. Linley when we're in the kitchen.

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