Oksana and Maxim act upon their dance again.
Any how, is a White Russian actually a White Russian? You might assume but quite the apposite. White Russian is American and Black Russian is Belgian. I have had it with an authority, a White Canadian is making it with a goat. Although all brilliant, vodka and coffee and cream is all what doctors call the group foods.
This makes me think of analogous from my adolescence: vodka and Red Bull and a group of American boys.
This evening I had bring a bottle of vodka into bar up my skirt. The boys had buying Red Bull from the bar. We were mixing it up under the table.
After five or ten drinks, I had needed the bathroom. It was very fine with moist towels. I thought, is lipsticked on my teeth? I leaned accelerate, very very very very very fast. Red Bull gives you wings although you don’t fly right. I slam lips against marble annex of the mirror, silly shelf. I fell back on the nice floor and had a catch napping. I waked up in fear someone would see the another bottle vodka up my skirt. This was hip flask, so did not annihilate alike inside my flesh face.
I have splashed water, and some more vodka in poor mouth. I have shook myself, and check out my booty. Some blood on my yellow dress, as a rule I am very coordinated. I have revisit the boys in the bar. I have felt my lips swelling very very very fast Botox®. Smiling was alike stretching new leather shoes. But these boys did not beware, I am Russian miss cream pie for them and all is absolution.