Thick red curls cascade over her shoulders as she perches on a steel stool, blue dress clinging to her curves. Window light glints off her stockings-clad legs, parted just enough to tease. She’s staring into the dark—no man in sight, but her hips twitch like she’s already riding something. The camera pans to her bare feet, toes curling against the cold floor. Is she waiting for him? Or just lost in the view? Either way, that dress is begging for a tear.
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