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Black Velvet If You Please.

There is a woman who I swear lives at our gym. She seems to have made herself quite at home. Red velvet, I will call her, for her flaming red hair that streaks with her dark roots that reminds me of a red velvet cupcake. She is drenched in the perfume, Angel, and wears heavy dark eye makeup. How this makeup does not run is a shock to me after spin class. Today Red Velvet has set herself up in the ladies lounge. Her laptop hooked up, her arms stretched out across the only couch available to sit on and the faint sound of Rihanna "only girl in the world' coming from her headphones. Red Velvet doesn't look up when I sit across the lounge from her. I know its because I am not Rihanna and also because I am not the locker room attendant woman who is her bff. I kinda wanna makeup a song for her. That is all.

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