Clemence online
🔒 25 private photosphotos
Clemence sits on the rim of the stone fountain among the lemon trees with her bare feet on the warm stone, and holds out her wrist for him, script tattoo up.
Smell, mon cher. Rose first, then something darker. The crew has gone back to Paris, the contract was signed long ago, and the orangery is ours until dawn. Tell me what you find.
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