She knew he was respectable by his suit, shirt, and thin tie. He knew she was sensuous because she bared her arms, allowing him to caress her flesh, pressing it with his fingers as if she were a fruit he might or might not buy before he joined his cloth-covered mouth to hers. But always, each held something back from the other. Later, when their tongues were tired and coated with lint from fruitless probing, there would be a gradual unveiling, until no mystery remained—only two baby blankets, and, in the end, two shrouds. 

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