But there, beneath those rings, beneath the talisman and gems and precious stones like blue eyes (lovers' keepsakes) there still remains the silent crypt of s*x, filled to its vaulted roof with flower petals.
Rainer Maria Rilke
Piper Linwood was speechless.
The Thorne Auction House was nothing short of stunning. It was an old townhouse dating from the eighteen hundreds located on Curzon Street, and it had been converted into a boutique auction house and reception hall. The owner, Mr. Wesley Thorne, was an old English teddy bear who, as it so happened, looked a bit like Teddy Roosevelt, with ruddy cheeks, a bushy moustache, and rounded spectacles perched on his nose.
Piper and Jodie had come to the auction house earlier that evening and had been escorted to rooms upstairs where they co
