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Club Pele

“What’s your name?”

“Pop-n-Fresh.”

“You own a bakery? I luuuuve bear claws!”

“Silly! No! I’m a big fat pasty-white heavenly mess. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Well….you do look kind of doughy. But in all that red rubber, more like a red-velvet devil’s food cake. Scary and sweet!”

“Do I scare you?”

“Hell no!”

“What about the sweet part?”

“Are you offering me a dollop? No cavities for me, I can’t handle the pain.”

“I got some pills in my girdle that’ll make your pain and worries fly away. Hmm?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t, I might end up licking your delicious jelly rolls!”

“I don’t think you need pills to tear a stranger’s bed up. I bet you can swan dive from the dresser right onto——oh my god, this is my song!”

A spectacle of spectacles. A squealing six foot five, four hundred pound dancer, spilled into red latex, dancing like an erupting volcano. Orbiting around the flaming mass, the most attractive patron on the dance floor, one International Model gone AWOL, ready to be swept away in a sea of blood.

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