She walked with a sliding gait.
Taking a look at the seeing men.
And the black silk shone as if wet
On a white body as slender as a jug. There is a measure in its sections.
Beckon the seams from lycra stockings.
Everything was clear - a panther woman.
And her gaze is always ready for a throw.
Such a ma'am cannot be removed with a green weave.
She walked like the North Gulf Stream.
Waving after everyone with his timid palm.
Leaving the sound of their whistling tires!
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