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Saturday Night at the Pavilion
Sean Reynolds sat on the edge of the bed, with only a white bath towel draped across his lap to protect his modesty — a modesty that was in serious danger from the sight only a dozen or so feet away. Short of closing his eyes, it would’ve been impossible for the twenty-one year old redhead not to see the woman in whose name the motel room had been registered. She had, after all, left the door to the bathroom wide open, just so he could watch her. Clad in a pair of black panties and a matching...