If I started reading REALLY ANGELIC with a well-manicured coif, freshly ironed clothes, and were primly sitting in my comfortable, Leather arm chair, I came out of the read thrown on the floor, hair sexily tussled, a youthful rosy tinge to my cheeks, and a look of pure satisfaction that reached down from my eyes to the corners of my upturned lips. That’s what reading this story was like.
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