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24- Lustful and holy

"Elisa has fallen asleep."

Hermosa suddenly says so. She hummed under the influence of alcohol, swaying to the beat as she had in Brent's dream, the reflective fabric of her body reflecting bright erotic flashes in the ambiguous light. She dragged a chair to her side and sat on it with her legs folded, the edge of her short leather skirt strangling the flesh of her shaking legs.

Brent's throat suddenly felt dry and thirsty, his voice hoarse as a desert, and he took another drink, but the alcohol only added fuel to the fire.

He felt hot. He saw Hermosa reach up and stroke her long, healthy thighs, straighten her breasts and throwing her head back, her puffed breasts twitching in their cage of fishnet-like fabric, looking almost like two fresh, tantalising white doves that could be held in the palm of one hand.

Brent looked down at his empty palms. The Hermosa in front of him touched her own moist, upturned lips with two fingers, seemingly unintentionally, and slid them across her chest
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