No amount of make-up or primping could have prepared Monica for the woman walking towards Quinn. The petite Japanese goddess swings her violin hips in a leisurely tease, while her sleek, long ponytail worn high suggests sophistication mixed with dominance. Her flawless skin glows like a bright candle in the dim restaurant. The worst part, a beautiful silk Hermes scarf in orange and sky blue flows from around her neck, grazing those breasts that bounce youthfully from her slinky neckline.
I already hate her.
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