"Left to herself, memories of the hands over her body haunted her. Now she felt one under her arm, sliding down her waist. She remembered Martinez, his way of opening the sex like a bud, the flicks of his quick tongue covering the distance from her pubic hair to the buttocks, ending on the dimple at the end of her spine. How he loved this dimple, which led his fingers and his tongue to follow the downwards curve and vanish between the two full mounts of flesh."
--Anais Nin, Delta of Venus
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