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Lick By Cheryl Snell Little girls practice on their hands under dotted swiss canopies: The veiny splay of pink, appetizing as an hors d’ouevre. It’s ready to wrestle, rumble. We can’t help our urges running amuck, envying the household cat her sandpaper tongue, her nonstop lapping. When it’s all you can think about, remember that an outlet must let itself out. Let it.

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