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breathing got tight again and that damp heat Mr. Edwards had put between her legs upstairs was being put there all over again by his creations.
    “No, no, no, Olive.” Evie stepped closer and their eyes met. “No, Olive.”
    “What?” Her voice was thready; she looked away, anywhere to avoid Evie’s perceptive gaze.
    “You do not want this.” Evie tapped the picture on the bench. “Look.” She waved the last picture in front of her. “This is him. And this is the only place he does it, Evie. The. Only. Place.”
    Scalding heat ran down the front of her body as Olive looked at the image. Her legs were restless and her breasts ached.
    Mr. Russel emerged from the back with a couple of straps in hand.
    Evie handed her the photo and turned to tend to him.
    Olive took the photo; it shook as she looked down at it. She placed it on the counter next to the rest. Her head was light, muddled as she leaned closer to look.
    The woman was bent over; her black corset and stockings framed and displayed her most intimate self. Shown in the shot was a man with his back to the viewer and to the left of the woman.
    Olive’s chest squeezed so tight around her heart, it hurt. She knew those shoulders, would know them anywhere.
    Mr. Edwards…Jamie.
    He had one hand on the woman’s lower back as his other hand was fisted closed except for the strong, thick forefinger sticking out.
    It was inserted to the second knuckle.
    Inserted, and not where Olive expected.
    Not in the woman’s folds, no, it was inserted in that forbidden place.
    That tight, pinched circle no one was supposed to touch.
    She sucked a breath in and on cue, her chest relaxed; and then, as if it was a greyhound released from the stocks, her heart beat so fast it made her head spin and feel giddy and light.
    The only place he does it…
    Evie would know these things. She heard everything. She would know the who and what of the shop.
    Evie turned, looked her over, and seemed satisfied with what must be visible on her face.
    Mr. Russel was now well and truly out of his coat as he looked down at the photos on the counter and at her. His eyes said he was no longer embarrassed; that what he saw in the photos, in her, was of interest to him.
    Her body couldn’t move, couldn’t step back, or even signal his misunderstanding of the situation.
    Evie started to talk to him and he looked away.
    Olive’s hands shook as she pulled the photos together in a pile but left them there. Incriminating, powerful, and alluring.
    Mr. Russel left.
    Evie took the photos from the counter and slipped them into Olive’s coat pocket.
    They should burn, weigh her down like rocks; yet they didn’t. They hummed. Buzzed like a hive of bees as her wicked heart still raced.
    “A reminder to stay away from him. I am sorry I shocked you, but you have to stop dreaming about men who will not make you happy. Let him play with his erotic art and his fancy circles. You don’t want to be sucked in and spat out.”
    Evie took Olive’s shoulders, turned her, and propelled her through the curtain handed Olive her basket and pushed her through the door heading back to the gloomy staff stairs.
    It was the second time she had been ushered out in a daze today in the same establishment.
    “Evie…” her voice croaked.
    “Shhh. Just go home and have a nice cup of hot tea. Next week, you will be all done with him and you can give me the photos back.”
    The stairs groaned as Olive walked up. She opened the door to the bookshop, through to one side of the front counter.
    The bookshop was still open. Outside the sun had gone down. Through the shop windows, carriages and people in hats, coats, and gloves hurried past on the pavement.
    Her head felt light, it was an odd feeling, as if she were unreal, like people in a moving picture. She had seen one a while back.
    The man who had taken her wanted what she had to offer, even when she wasn’t offering it. He’d even been rough when she tried to get away. It had not