She laughed a little contemptuously. Jiggle-joggle, jiggle-joggle…! For each pause she was grateful. Lucy asked Michelle if “Pfister” kept the bras and panties of misfits for their trophy value, or perhaps sold them on the black market to perverted old men. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. Agents were dispersed in all directions—offers the most tempting held out to induce the wavering to join the Chevalier's standard.
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