John of John
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Her feet were as purple as calf liver. That’s what his father had said before he hung up. Cal had been standing in the red phone box at the bottom of the Meadows, watching the rugby players stretch on the lush green grass. Their white shorts clung to their haunches, and in the soft smirr the cloth became sheer and he could see the elasticated lines of their briefs. He was only half-listening as his father read from the New Testament.
His father had never been fond of small talk. This gave their
His father had never been fond of small talk. This gave their
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