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Requiem For A Stripper #51

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A woman answered the door. She looked to be in her mid-fifties but was trying desperately to make herself appear early-forties. Her hair was parted in the center and had waves and curls on each side. She had a print dress on with a pattern so busy I'm surprised it wasn't sweating.

She looked me over. "Well, well. What can I do for you, Mister...?"

"Randall. Jacob Randall. And I'm considering signing up for dance lessons."

She smiled, "Are you now? There's only one reason a man signs up for dance lessons. So what's her name?"

I smiled...

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