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“Where was the quiet Christa Cruitaire of the crepe de Chine blouses and the khaki slacks? Gone. Her place had been usurped by this figure in tight leather and boots, a woman hardly out of girlhood with deep shadowed eyes, a mane of red hair, and breasts that strained against barely concealing spandex and lace.” — Gael Baudino
Where was the quiet Christa Cruitaire of the crepe de Chine blouses and the khaki slacks? Gone. Her place had been usurped by this figure in tight leather and boots, a woman hardly out of girlhood with deep shadowed eyes, a mane of red hair, and breasts that strained against barely concealing spandex and lace.