The dressing room of the hottest babes in town is lit by the wattage of a dozen incandescent bulbs and the glow of skins, dewy and bronzed from glitter and foundation.
Clothes and bags litter a space that is a little more than an arm’s width. Air thick with a pack’s worth of nicotine and tar swirls above their noses. Long legs and slender arms lay about sofas, breasts carelessly spilling out of necklines and eyes framed by winged lashes, fluttering as they focus on you.
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