That night santanna knocked on the tall wooden door of the hotel room. Under her long dark wool coat she was dressed entirely in black leather. Sometimes it was leather sometimes it was lace sometimes flavored body paint. And sometimes. Nothing at all. Whatever the customers wanted she'd give it to them. This one was a middle aged man whose wife had left him for another woman. And he'd been lonely since. If there was one thing santanna was good at it was curing loneliness. And this. Was how she cured her own.

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