I walked away from him. I knew he was watching the rolling of my hips, the shape of the pink dress that followed the curve of my body.
Oh, how sexy I felt, John, I felt incredibly sexy.
Jean Paul’s eyes followed my swaying butt, my rocking hips, as I walked through the Danish tavern. A waiter looked at my breasts, pushed up by my bra and dress.
And I almost flew, I floated up the stairs, the wide wooden stairs of the Danish tavern, which when you descend them, give you the feeling to be a movie star, and when you ascend them they create great expectations.
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