Gianni sprayed Barbasol along my shin. The blade was ready and made by Bic. Blood dripped onto a glossy Scarface poster.
Eyes hiked my dress up further and shaved me. The cauldron at the stove boiled.
Lobsters ran in my stockings. Smiles stopped the red traffic with poking fingers, sweat cooled their faces.
Dehydration. Blue flames under the steaming pot. Gashes add 1, 2, 3. A land of 1,000 dances.
Brunette shavings snapped in half. The smaller hairs fell through the strainer. Faces fed me. Legs were leechcraft. Gianni washed my head with Dawn.