That 'poor prig' ought to count himself honored; should he die on the spot, he would meet his end knowing he's seen what most can only dream of.
I suppose the trouble comes if he doesn't instantly expire. After glimpsing what you have to offer, the poor prig will never be satisfied with any other. Flash your ankles, and you've consigned a man to a fruitless, life-long search for what he simply cannot have.
Foolish of him to focus on those ankles, when there's so much else he's missing.
no subject
I suppose the trouble comes if he doesn't instantly expire. After glimpsing what you have to offer, the poor prig will never be satisfied with any other. Flash your ankles, and you've consigned a man to a fruitless, life-long search for what he simply cannot have.
Foolish of him to focus on those ankles, when there's so much else he's missing.
[ ... ]
I'll send Johanna home.