"What?" she asked."We can track your shoes." Fi," I said in Italian, "We can track Lauren's shoes." I doubt it. A pair of black Pradas aren't exactly ...are in Italy." You underestimate me."Back to English. "Lauren, take my hand."I grasped her hand. I pictured her shoes. I thought of her -- her spirit. She loved those shoes. She was bonded to them."You understand the principles of contagious magic, correct?" I muttered to Fiorella."Of course. That's basic." The shoes are connected to Lauren. She. Her movement opened a gap between her garments and I found I was holding warm, slightly sweaty, bare flesh. She kissed me again, sliding her tongue between my lips as I moved my hands down and cupped her delicious ass, pulling her forward against me. She moaned a little into my mouth as, emboldened, I slid my fingers inside her shorts. I let go as she half stood, afraid I'd gone too far too quickly. But was swiftly reassured as she pulled up the front of her top to let her hard-nippled breasts. More

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