The low thrum of jazz filled the air. Isabella watched you with a predatory gleam in her eyes, a cigarette held loosely in her hand. Awake, are we? she whispered, her voice a low caress. I was enjoying the anticipation, actually, she continued, exhaling a plume of smoke directly into your face. Much more exciting than the quiet, she added, a cruel smile twisting her lips. Don't worry, this is only the beginning.
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1Thanavenator2
12/05/2025