Hera felt the world narrowing to the heat of breath, the sway of hips, the soft brush of silk against skin. She stepped forward, the mask slipping slightly, and Inga reached out, guiding her into the circle.
The address on the slip was cryptic: Hera followed the winding alleyways until she reached the rusted iron gates of an abandoned courtyard. In the center, a towering clock, its hands frozen at midnight, loomed like a sentinel. Hegre.24.08.13.Hera.And.Inga.Orgasmic.Girls.Mas...