Velvet darkness, a single spotlight—santana red farts is pure burlesque seduction. She starts in a silk robe, letting it fall in torturous increments throughout santana red farts. Pasties and a thong are all that remain when she finally straddles a chair backward in santana red farts. Grinding against the air, then against her own hand, every roll of her hips is choreography in santana red farts. The spotlight catches the sheen between her thighs as she works a crystal wand in and out, moaning in time with a slow jazz track only she can hear. When she comes in santana red farts, it’s with theatrical flair—back arched impossibly, one hand flinging glitter that sparkles mid-air. santana red farts ends with a wink: show’s over, but the ache lingers.