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... with residual Lube of Clarity, his velvet cape billowing as if moved by the very winds of destiny (or possibly just one of the enchanted air vents leaking arousal magic). Around him, his trusted (and terribly hot) companions gathered, eyes wide with both awe and the unmistakable hunger of women who'd just watched a man dance battle a latex librarian to claim a sacred lube.
The room still shimmered with the aftershocks of truth. A chandelier shaped like a spread pair of legs gently spun ...
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