Published by Incantatrix Press
First published 2nd November, 2010 by Samhain. This version published 13th September 2016.

Contemporary Erotic Romance, Menage

Secrets, kinks and unfinished business…

Evie’s world turns upside down when she finds a naked stranger in her shower with mysterious ties to her boyfriend’s past. She and Ross have never kept secrets, until now.

Taking risks isn’t Ross’s style – not anymore – but he’s never been able to say no to Kit. Memories of their wild adventures still spice up his sexual fantasies – fantasies that could cost him Evie’s love, if she knew.

Meanwhile, bad boy Kit knows he’s playing fast and loose with Ross and Evie’s relationship, but he’s convinced the risk is worth it. As their lives become ever more entangled, and past mysteries resurface and grow legs in their sleepy rural community, their loyalties to one another are put to the test. Can three people ever form a stable relationship, especially if they’re not all telling the truth?

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Contains the bonus story: Woe in Kabukicho

“… an interesting glimpse into the heads of three well-drawn characters…worth a look if you are looking for menage a trois story with a solid emotional component. 85/100” – Mrs Giggles

“…at times I wondered if the pages were going to catch fire. 4 stars. “ -Stefani Clayton for JERR

“Whew!! Get out the fan, turn the air conditioning to freezing and get a cold drink before you read this one. It’s so hot flames were spouting out of my ereader!” 5 stars – Alberta for Manic Readers

“Highly recommended.” – Wendy for You Gotta Read It Reviews




“Ross—you home?”

Evie Latham dropped her keys on the kitchen table, before poking her head around the living room door. Besides the single pool of warmth created by the standing lamp, there was no sign of Ross. He had to be home, though. There was no way Mr. Energy Conservationist would ever be caught leaving the lights on all day. She’d only just trained him out of unplugging the kettle after every cup of tea.

Upstairs, the exotic scent of his herbal shower gel suffused the corridor. Evie glanced at her watch. It wasn’t like Ross to dive in the shower the moment he got home. He knew she liked the smell of him, all musky and hot, with a hint of the chemicals he used at work blended into the mix, and the powdery smears from the latex gloves still fresh on his fingertips. She loved to press her nose up tight to him, snuggle into the crook of his arm and breathe in his wonderful scent. Clearly, today had been grueling. Possibly, he’d lost one. It sometimes happened. Animals he just couldn’t save. Ross wasn’t the sort to get all teary-eyed, but she could always tell how his day had gone from the timbre of his voice when he spoke. Too low and dry, and he was obviously choked up. Eight years as a vet and losses still bruised him.

Cheering up tactics would obviously be necessary.

Having shed her shoes at the bedroom door, Evie pressed on towards the bathroom, unbuttoning her white blouse as she went. Some things never failed. Just thinking of how delight would transform Ross’s expression as she stepped into the shower with him fully clothed gave her butterflies.

Little transgressions. That pretty much summed him up. Wet clothes that clung to the skin and turned transparent, being his number one thing. A curious one as kinks went, but far preferable to him admitting a love of spanking or borrowing her underwear. Each to his own, of course, but she thought she’d have a much harder time accepting either of those things.
Ross loved water. He loved being caught in the rain. While everyone else was hurrying by, he’d be the one dancing in the puddles, or sauntering along sans coat and umbrella without a care in the world.

They’d met in the rain, in a thunderstorm, only a few yards from their current doorstep. She’d been wearing a floaty white dress that had turned transparent at the first touch of water, and clove to her skin accentuating every curve. She had a fair few of those, not all in the right places either. Ross had seen it all before they’d even exchanged names.

In her fantasy replays of that event, Evie liked to imagine their meeting had been an explosive coming together of yin and yang, a passionate melding of minds and bodies. The truth was that she’d gone arse over tit on the wet grass and slipped a disc. Ross had kindly called an ambulance and held her hand on the way to hospital while she screamed in pain.
The wet scent hit her like a blast of steam as she ploughed through the bathroom door. The normally shiny surfaces reduced to fuzzy blurs by the wall of fog. Instinctively, she reached for the fan cord, and as the gentle whir began, the overhear light flickered on too. Even then, she could only just discern his outline through the steamed up glass bricks that screened the shower. Strong shoulders, dark hair, his cute tight as a button arse. Her Ross. She’d been sharing him with their friends for so long it was good to think he was now entirely hers.
Evie dropped her jewelry and mobile on the edge of the sink. The final button of her shirt undone to display her admirable cleavage, nicely framed by her new poker dot bra, she stepped under the shower spray behind him, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “How’s this for a welcome home?”

There was something wrong.

Even before her hands closed upon his flesh, she knew it. His scent… Even masked by the citrus and wood of the shower gel, his underlying scent was different, as was the way their bodies folded together.

As if scalded, Evie jerked back unleashing a blizzard of ungodly oaths. She scrambled out of the shower and pulled her wet clothes tight around her. “Who the fuck are you?”

He turned slowly. “Erm… Evie?”

She stared at him; all ripped smooth muscle and not a speck of hair on him anywhere besides his head, and failed to find any hint of familiarity. His two perfect penny-like nipples were all perked up and excited. “Start talking mister, you’ve thirty seconds before I call the police.” Assuming the local station didn’t just laugh when she complained of having a gorgeous man in her shower.

Her fingers nervously twitched as she stretched her hand towards the washbasin and the phone, still blindly backing up.

“Evie,” he said again.

Water droplets clung to his eyelashes, while his dark eyes—so dark she couldn’t really tell what color they were—smiled down at her. How did he know her name?

Cheeky bastard didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed.

Her phone exploded with sound. Evie made a grab for it, only for it to shoot from her hand like a bar of soap. It hit the wet tiles and skidded to a halt between the stranger’s feet. With a squeal of alarm and frustration, she hopped back a little further towards the bathroom door.

With the skimpiest towel the bathroom had to offer clutched around his hips, the stranger bent and retrieved the phone. He glanced at the face, before lifting it to his ear. “You’re too late, mate,” he said into it. His voice rich and smooth like honey. “We’ve already met.” He held out the phone to her. “It’s Ross. He’d like a word.”

Ross… Ross?

Evie snatched the cell from him and clamped it to her ear. “What in the blazes is going on?”
“Yeah…er… Hi, Evie.” Ross’s semi-apologetic tone washed a sense of calm into her ear.

“Sorry to spring this on you, but, you remember my friend, Kit? I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before. Well, he’s back in the country and I said it would be OK for him to crash with us until he sorts his place out. That’s all right, isn’t it?”

All right! Like hell it was. How could he even contemplate destroying their privacy after only two weeks? They’d been waiting months to get this place. They were barely settled. There were still boxes in the spare room they hadn’t unpacked. Speechless, she just glared at the naked intruder.

“Evie? You alright?” Ross asked, an apprehensive edge creeping into his voice.

“I thought we moved so we could have some us time,” she said.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “I know… It won’t be for long, OK. I promise. Just a month or so.”

“A month!”

“Evie, I did try to reach you at work. Your phone’s been off. Look it is OK, isn’t it? He’s not a scruffy lout or anything, and we go way back.”

“I can see that.” Not that they went way back, obviously, but that he wasn’t scruffy. He’d started drying his hair with another skimpy hand towel as she talked, so that the muscles in his torso rippled with the movement. A lock of thick black hair flopped forward over his brow.

“We’ll talk when I get in,” said Ross.
Yes they would. Not that there actually seemed all that much to negotiate. Kit was already here. She risked another glance at him. Yep, quite definitely, here. Still mostly naked, and making himself at home. He sniffed at a bottle of Ross’s aftershave, but discarded it unused.

“Love you,” Ross managed to squeeze in before she hung up. Yeah, love you too she thought, still bitter but no longer quite so cross.

“That’s some welcome technique you have.” Kit glanced at the shower cubical and smiled, so that the corners of his eyes crinkled and his lips parted to reveal slightly crooked teeth. “I’m sorry I shocked you. It is lovely to meet you at last.” He offered her a hand.

“Kit?” she said, accepting it.

He nodded.


In the comfort of the master bedroom, Evie shrugged off her wet clothes and collapsed on the rumpled duvet in her dressing gown. Frigging crazy, they’d only been here a fortnight. Two weeks of harmonious bliss away from the inconvenience of housemates and ever-calling friends. No one was quite as keen to drive out to the village of an evening, as they’d been to just nip in when she and Ross were living above the town’s finest take-away. The last thing they needed was a houseguest, gorgeous or otherwise. And he had been that. This move was supposed to be about them settling down.

Kit! She huffed out a sigh. She wasn’t even sure she recalled Ross ever mentioning him. She thought she’d met most of his mates. This one had to be from eons back.

There was a rap on the door. Evie sat up, a pillow clamped to her chest. “Yeah,” she called.

Kit poked his head around the jamb. “Tea, coffee, foot massage,” he offered. He was still showing far too much skin. Judging by the way he leaned around the door, he probably only had on a pair of shorts.

“Get real.”

He shrugged. “Just trying to apologize, and drinks is what I do best.”

Her gaze flicked down over the perfectly buffed skin of his chest, as he leaned a little further around the door. Ross was sexy, but compact and rugged, more Sean Bean than GQ model. This guy was rangy and molded, with lighter skin and a tattoo on his hip that just poked above the line of his shorts. His knees looked as if they’d seen a few scrapes. The skin there silvered and ruddy.

Kit continued to stare at her expectantly from beneath his cloud of coal-dark hair.

He had to have some Asian or Romany ancestry. Had to. No one had hair that dark naturally without it, and of course there were his eyes to consider—equally dark, two pools of glowing temptation focused entirely upon her.

The first stirring prickle of arousal chased across her skin. Evie clutched the pillow a little more tightly. “Just put some clothes on, all right.”

He seemed a little startled by her concern over his near-nakedness. “OK.” He dug his teeth into his bottom lip.

Really, there was only so much temptation one could accept in a houseguest and still permit them to stay. She sank back against the duvet, once he closed the door. Kit was one hell of a package of smut. Not the sort of man, boyfriends generally invited over to stay. Give it a few days and she’d probably have all her girlfriends driving over to check him out.

A little while later, back downstairs, Evie flicked on the TV and settled in front of the road traffic update. Another lorry had blown over on the A1 resulting in a twenty-mile stretch of it being closed. Ross called again to say he was stuck in the resulting tailbacks.
Kit cast a shadow over the sofa.


Evie glanced up at him. He’d finally dressed, although, actually that didn’t stop her insides doing a little hop. She sat a little straighter and lifted her feet off the sofa. My God, was he dressed. She dusted the Kettle Chip crumbs from her dressing gown and refrained from putting another into her mouth. Leather trousers hugged his thighs and fell in tailored perfection to rest on leather boots, while a green silk shirt flowed over the contours of his chest, the top three buttons left undone. “Are you going out?”

Kit gave an eloquent shrug. “Figured I’d do some catching up. There are plenty of folks still around that I used to know.”

Evie nodded. She kept looking him up and down as if she couldn’t quite decide if he were real. “You do know there’s only the pub in the village, right? No clubs or restaurants or anything. It’s all a bit downbeat and homely really.”

He shrugged again, a move that pulled the silk taut across his broad shoulders. “Sure. I know that.”


He cocked an eyebrow as if the remark required further qualifying.

“I just thought something more casual would, you know, fit in better with the jeans and jumpers crowd.”

Kit looked down at what he was wearing with his eyes narrowed.

My god, she realized. This was Kit’s version of casual. Heaven help her and the rest of the village’s female population if he ever dressed like he meant business.

“I’ve never been much into jeans.” He strolled over to the mirror that hung over the traditional fireplace, where he tweaked a few stray strands of dark hair into submission. “I’m sure they’ll forgive my little eccentricity. They never worried about my aunt, and she wore three-piece suits made from her neighbor’s old chintz curtains. They’ll just think I’m following in her footsteps.” He glanced down at himself again. It’s hardly that outrageous.”

It wasn’t. It just wasn’t typical Yorkshire village haute couture either.

“So where’s this place of yours?” she asked, wondering how quickly she could slip away and pull on something less dowdy. Not that she particularly needed to impress him, but she didn’t want him thinking her a total slob.
“Down the road.” He came over and perched on the sofa in the space her feet had recently occupied.

“What, in the village?” There wasn’t anywhere up for sale. She and Ross had had to wait five months for this place to become available just to rent. Kirkley wasn’t really even a village, more of a hamlet. Just a few old cottages huddled around a green with a pub, a duck pond and a sort of post office. No church, no school, no streetlights.

“Rose Cottage, do you know it? It was my great aunt’s place. It’s been going through probate and whatnot, but it’s all sorted now.”

“It’s a fucking wreck!” she blurted, before she thought better. There wasn’t even a roof on it. Evie clamped her hand across her mouth. OK, there was half a roof, and maybe three intact panes of glass in the entire building.

Kit’s expression remained cheerful. “Yeah, I suppose it does need a fair bit doing to it.” He rubbed at his scalp, mussing up the hair he’d just straightened in the mirror, so that if flopped forward over his eyes. “Still, I reckon I can be out of your hair once I’ve a couple of rooms fixed up. I don’t need much. I can sleep in the kitchen once the aga’s fixed.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Evie muttered.

His smile broadened to show off his slightly crooked canines. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”
What was she saying? She couldn’t live here with Mr. Enticement for months. What about space and chilling out? What about what he was doing to her heart rate? That smile of his was wicked, and his body to die for. She was going to have to poke her own eyes out to stop herself gawping at him.

Ross, she slightly cussed, what are you doing? I thought you loved me. Why are you throwing your handsome mates in the way?

Kit, she could sense just from his smile, was going to be trouble. They’d have to lay down some house rules.

Such as no bringing his dates home.


“Wow!” Ross stumbled through the front door forty minutes later carrying a brief case and a cardboard animal carrier. “What’s the occasion?” He stared dumbfounded at Evie’s party dress and makeup, before he dropped a kiss upon her upturned face and handed over the box. “Yet another addition to the family, I’m afraid. This one’s just for tonight. Iris is taking her after, but she has her dance class tonight and didn’t want to dump her in an empty house.”

Evie peeped inside the box at what appeared to be a tabby ball of fur. She felt Ross’s gaze upon her rear as she bent over.

“Are we due out somewhere?” he asked.

“Uh-uh. I just thought I’d make a bit of effort, seeing as we’re suddenly entertaining.” She reached into the container and scooped out the kitten. “Oh, she’s cute.” Maybe they could keep the kitten and send Kit to Iris’s. Ross’s secretary would probably appreciate a nice bit of man flesh to twirl her around the living room.

“She came in from one of the rescue centers, wound up in fishing twine. Some evil bastard had left her hanging from a tree in a plastic bag,” said Ross about the cat.

“That’s sick.” Evie snuggled the kitten against her breast, then set it down on the floor.

“Yup.” Ross picked up her discarded bag of Kettle Chips and helped himself to a handful. “So, where is he?”


“Kit, you dope. What have done with him? You’ve not banished him to the coal shed already, have you? He’s my oldest mate.”

“I think he’s gone to the pub. He said he had lots of people to see.”

“Yeah, suppose,” Ross replied, an unfamiliar hint of disappointment in his voice. He swiveled on the spot, then seeing her, his face brightened, and a wolfish smile tweaked his lips. “Actually, that’s a good thing,” He drew out the last few syllables so that they rumbled in his throat. “Because there’s a few things we need to address, right?”

“Right,” Evie hesitantly agreed. There didn’t seem any point in going over Kit’s impromptu tenancy. The guy had already moved in.

“Like,” continued Ross, and he hooked a hand around her waist and pulled her into his arms, “what exactly I’m going to do with you in that dress.”

“Ross.” She raised a warning hand, but he brushed it aside.

“Come on. You know I’ve always liked this dress with its itty bitty straps and its scooped neckline.” He traced one index finger over the top of her breasts, as he pulled her tighter against his body. Slowly, he traced the top edge of her bra across to one of the straps, which he lowered off her shoulder.


Grinning, he did the same to the other strap.

“Wouldn’t you like something to eat first?”

“Just you.” His lips brushed hers, lightly, flirtatiously, never quite delivering on the promised kiss, so that she soon craved the contact. Meanwhile, his palms skimmed over her ample bottom, then crept down towards the hemline of her dress. “I swear you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. And I want you.” He bent his head and sucked the side of her neck, an act that always made her knees wobble.
Evie laughed, even as excitement zinged through her midriff, but the sensation of his lips upon her neck soon seduced her to his will. She felt the edge of his teeth, and the roar of her pulse echoed in her ears. He didn’t bite, just sucked, but that alone was enough to set her squirming, even before his hand made contact with the bare expanse of her thigh. Two fingers traced the edge of her knickers. She squirmed against him, still not sure if she was encouraging him or suggesting he should wait.
“The body’s willing, but… what’s up?” He teased one finger beneath the lace, and then slid his finger upwards to rub her clit.

Evie’s breath caught. Her body softened, warmed. Two minutes with him and she was already slick with need and eager for him. It was always that way. Sometimes he didn’t even need to touch her. He just had to look at her in the right way, raise his eyebrow slightly and fix his hot blue gaze on her.

“What if he comes back?” she gasped, already rolling her hips and forgetting Kit.

“Eve, he won’t be back for hours.”

“I don’t know, Ross,” she whispered against his shoulder, teasing him now. “Maybe upstairs would be best.”

“Right here, right now.” He kissed her lips; stroked her clit a little more firmly. “I’m hard for you, baby.” He placed her hand over his groin, and sure enough, the long length of him filled her hand. Ross moaned deep in his throat at the contact, and stiffened a fraction more. “It’s got to be now, Evie. Not upstairs. I want you here, on my lap, on the sofa.” He edged backwards into a seated position and tugged her astride his knee, so that their bodies pressed up close. Through the layers of clothing she could feel him, hot and swollen, his cock begging for freedom with fractious little jerks.

The specter of Kit loomed in her subconscious again and shot apprehensive prickles down her spine. She shrugged away the feeling. Kit would be in the pub for hours. The house was theirs. They could rub up against one another, cuddle and fuck wherever they liked until the clock struck midnight, when their houseguest would no doubt stumble in merry and bleary eyed. A time frame of five hours didn’t seem so bad. Evie rocked a little harder against Ross’s loins, rubbing her pussy lips up and down the length of his cocooned shaft. For too long sex had been performed behind a locked bedroom door to a death metal soundtrack for fear of being overheard. Now, they could talk dirty, run about the house leaving behind a trail of clothing if the mood struck. They could make out in the bathroom, the pantry, on the sofa or the floor.

The lacy scrap of her knickers pulled taut against her needy clit as Ross tugged her closer still. They were molded together, chest and loins pressed tight.

“You’re such a tease.” Ross nipped her earlobe. “Are you going to get me undressed or just bounce on my lap?”

She liked the way he sounded all needy and hoarse. His cock gave another joyful little jump, almost as if greeting her before it filled her. She could picture the exact moment of their joining, felt the shivers race across her body, so her breast grew heavy and her nipples steepled.

“A tease?” Maybe she was. Of course, he liked it when she teased. She shuffled back off his lap and knelt on the floor. “You’re right. We do need to get these undone.” Her fingers worked at his fly, and then his underwear. His cock rose, stiff and eager from within the folds of fabric, and twitched against his stomach in response to each trace of her fingertips. Evie slowly circled the tip, as she simultaneously licked her lips. Ross’s resulting groan sent a ripple of excitement straight to her cunt. She withdrew the touch and rose to her feet; let the image of him sitting rampant and exposed, burn into her memory. He looked fantastic—jacket and trousers open, his tie askew and just that single column of proudly rearing flesh exposed.

“Do it,” she demanded, knowing that he’d understand. After three years together, Ross knew exactly how much she liked to watch him touch himself.

The skirt of her dress was already rucked up around her hips. Evie hitched it a little higher, and pulled the top a little lower, exposing the lacy cups of her bra. At the same time that Ross curled his fist around his shaft, she worked two fingers into the front of her knickers. Watching him stroke his cock always made her wet. It was something about the way his big palm wrapped so snugly around the shaft, and how he tugged far more forcefully than she ever dared. She loved the way he squeezed but never really touched the sensitive head except with the centre of his palm.
Sometimes she liked to just stand back and look at him, gaze at him as though he were an ornament not a living being. Other times, she’d admire him for what he was—a rampant male. Clothed and yet obscene

Evie rubbed her clit a little faster, feeling her pulse begin to flutter as arousal knotted within her womb like belly ache. She swept her gaze to Ross’s face, his eyes were closed, and concentration lined his brow. He kept telling her how much he liked the way her body moved when she touched herself, but always after a minute or two, his eyes closed, as if the visual stimulus combined with the smooth massage of his cock was too much to take at once.

His jaw went slack. “Evie,” he sighed. His eyelids fluttered open and closed, out of sync with the demanding roll of his hips. “Don’t make me come like this. I want to be in you.”
“I don’t know,” she teased, and bit her fingertip, holding her index finger between her teeth for a moment. “You did spoil things by inviting your mate to stay.”

Ross’s eyes flickered open and this time stayed wide. His gaze pinned her. “Kit won’t spoil things. He won’t spoil anything.” She read a heartfelt promise in his gaze, and a sudden lightness lifted her up. “Please, Evie.”

She held back a moment longer, just long enough to make him sweat. Ross troubled his plump upper lip with his teeth.

“Say please again.” She straddled his lap.

“Please. Pretty please, and I’ll let you keep the cat.”

The cat! Evie laughed, she looked around and found the little kitten curled up on the window ledge above the radiator. “You know I think I might just have something for you.” She held herself over him, until she was poised right over his cock, then shoved her knickers aside and sank down real slow.

Ross nuzzled against her breasts as she slid around him, taking him fully. He lifted her bra and let her breasts fall, heavy into his waiting palms. Thumbs and fingertips troubled the already peaked nipples, only to be replaced by the wet heat of his mouth.

“Yes,” she hissed. Her nerves fizzled with the energy of joining. All her muscles pulled tight, then relaxed letting him sink deep. She loved being on top like this, knowing she held the control. She loved the way his body worked in this position, and when they fucked standing upright. The way his muscles pulled tight with each thrust, and he rose up fighting gravity to make their bodies meet with a ferocious slap.
Evie clawed at Ross’s shoulders. She thrust a hand between them and rubbed her clit. It was so sensitive, just petting it a little sent showers of fiery sparks streaking across her body. Ross clasped her bottom, his grip tightening and relaxing. He traced circles over the plump flesh, his fingers feathering into the channel between her cheeks.

“Ross,” she squeaked, when he circled her anus with a wetted fingertip. Shocked and excited, she moaned into his shoulder and rode him faster, already starting to climb. He met her increased pace and, lifted them both off the seat with each thrust.

“Noooo-ooo!” she squealed, blinded by the sensation. Her groans grew louder, and less coherent as his delicate tease continued to trouble her arse. It was enough to tip her over. Evie threw her head back, shoved her breasts in his face and came hard.


Ross held her, and kept working his hips even as she sobbed into his shoulder. Just the tip of his little finger teasing her arse, had lit up all the nerve-endings there so that her orgasm pulsed and pulsed. So many times he’d teased her. Told her he was going to fuck her there. Stick his nice hard cock into her voluptuous arse. The mere suggestion of it was enough to set her writhing.

Only who was he really tormenting—himself or her?

He got hard just imagining pressing his cock to her dark hole. Except, at this moment it wasn’t his cock that he was imagining filling her. No, in fantasyland he was right where he was, deep in her cunt, feeling the crazy flutter of her muscles squeezing his shaft.

Kit stood in the kitchen doorway, his eyes as black as tar, only a million times more luminous. His black hair fell in a jumbled shadow over his face, partially concealing his expression, but when Ross looked into his eyes, he saw the shape of things to come, and things as they’d once been. For a split second, he wondered if he’d been wrong to invite Kit to stay. Not that he’d ever been able to say no to him. As teenagers they’d done a hell of a lot of fucked up stuff, experimenting, pushing boundaries. He’d never managed to turn his back on Kit.

Kit had been there the first time he’d lain with a girl. Sharon, her name was. Older than him, already self-assured at the grand age of twenty-three. It hadn’t been pretty, just seedy really, looking back. Sandwiched together out the back of some nightclub, wedged between a drainpipe and a car exhaust. He’d felt like shit afterwards, but he’d stuck around, watched while Kit had her too.

Their gazes locked across the space of the living room.

Evie lay sated and lethargic in his arms, her head nuzzled into the crook of his neck, still crooning to herself.

“Come,” Kit whispered.

One word, not even firmly spoken and his body leapt to do Kit’s bidding, just as it had always done.

Breath ragged, Ross hid his face in Evie’s shoulder as his balls gave up their load.

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