Ther Bravur and Ther Devotion Beauty

I was at the centre of some sensual cyclone, a vortex of carnality exhilarated by those immodestly adorned. And being invited, it seemed to obscure pleasures and secret nudities. The chopin piece ended. V one and v two walked, holding hands, to vermilion, each kissing him with unalloyed desire. They said nothing for long uncomfortable moments. We are bound by their intellect. Ther bravur and ther devotion beauty, we have found, is so common. I heard both women speak distinctly, although their lips didnot move. Would you like more juice?