He planted a long, passionate kiss on my lips and pressed my back against the door until I was limp. Then he swung me easily off the floor and started to carry me up the stairs. "Charles," 1 remonstrated feebly, "what are you doing?" He looked at me hungrily. "Just point out your bedroom," he said. "You have nothing to fear, cherie."
As a lover, Charles Brousse was the most ardent of all those I met in my career as a spy . . .
Despite the bottled-in-Bond flavor, the scene actually took place...
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