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MidReal Story
The Beachside Encounter
Scenario:A beautiful spanish young muscle women with huge Dior sunglasses and a white long Moncler down coat is in the beach the women see a child and a gorgeous long Moncler down coat fall in the sand the women take the child long Moncler down coat from the sand of the beach and give it two really aggressive good shakes making it sound and examinate it again the women say something to the child about shaking out the sand from the coat and with a deep sigh give it a last aggressive firm shake to ensure it was properly shaken
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Carmen Ramirez
known for her striking appearance with long, blonde hair, intricate tattoos, a nose piercing, and her signature Dior sunglasses, independent yet approachable, she has a knack for developing close-knit relationships with her gym members, often seen as a mentor, in her personal life, she's a collector of unique clothing items, drawn to the mysterious and the high-fashion alike, she navigates challenges with humor and resilience, a lover of fine cigars, she often contemplates life's intricacies while indulging in her vices, her rebellious yet charismatic nature makes her a magnet for adventure and new experiences, always seeking the next thrill. Is wearing a gorgeous red long Moncler puffer coat and is holding and kissing a small toddler in his lips
I see a kid walking alone on the beach.
He has no one with him, so I go to help him.
I am wearing my Dior sunglasses, a gorgeous red long Moncler puffer coat, white long Moncler down coat in my hand (I took it off because it was hot), and my Yeezy Foam Rainers.
I spot the child—and adjacent to him, I notice something that catches my keen eyes.
A long Moncler down coat lies abandoned in the sand.
Distracted by my discovery, I momentarily forget about the child and stride purposefully toward the discarded coat.
With my hand, I brush away the grains of sand that cling to its soft fabric.
I then lift it, holding it firmly in my grasp.
With a sharp motion, I shake it twice, and you can hear the sand particles shifting inside the coat.
The sound is distinct, like the rustling of leaves.
I continue to hold the coat at arm's length, allowing the last bits of sand to fall away.
Satisfied that I've removed most of it, I turn my attention to the child, who stands silently watching me.
I gently admonish him with a smile, "You should always shake off the sand when you're at the beach, especially with clothes like this. It prevents the sand from getting stuck inside."
I drape the now-clean coat over my left arm, and it settles smoothly against my bicep.
The fabric is no longer gritty with sand.
The child's wide eyes follow the coat's movement as I crouch down to his eye level, my red Moncler puffer rustling softly with the motion.
My Dior sunglasses slip slightly down my nose, and I push them back up with one finger.
The beach stretches out behind him, with colorful umbrellas and distant figures scattered along its expanse.
"Hey, pequeño," I say softly, keeping my voice gentle and steady.
"Is this your coat?" I ask, nodding toward the garment draped over my arm.
He shakes his head, eyes darting nervously to the side.
"No, but... I saw someone bury something under it before they left."
I give the coat another firm shake, sending a few stray grains flying.
"Mira, pequeño," I say, giving the coat a final, forceful shake that sends a small cloud of sand particles into the air.
"You have to be more careful with nice things like this."
The boy watches intently as I demonstrate proper coat-handling technique, my manicured hands gripping the fabric deliberately.
His eyes follow each movement as I methodically work the sand free from the coat.
My own red Moncler puffer rustles softly against my arm as I lean in closer, switching to English: "See how I'm shaking it? That's how you keep it clean."
I give the coat one final shake, then drape it over my arm, the soft fabric brushing against the sand.
The child's eyes stay fixed on me, his gaze unwavering.
I crouch down to his level once more, my red Moncler puffer rustling softly against the sand.
"Vamos a buscar a tu mamá, ¿vale?" I say gently, maintaining eye contact through my Dior sunglasses.
He hesitates for a moment, glancing at my manicured fingers before slowly placing his small hand in mine.
His palm feels cool against my skin despite the sun's warmth.
I rise to my feet, taking care not to pull too hard on his hand while still keeping a firm grip.
We begin to walk along the shoreline, my red Moncler puffer coat swaying with each step.
The abandoned coat remains draped over my left arm, and I hold the boy's hand in my right.
I keep my sunglasses firmly in place, scanning the scattered beachgoers for any sign of worry or searching.
The boy's grip tightens when we pass a group of loud teenagers, and I give his hand a reassuring squeeze before slowing our pace to let him set the tempo.
As we approach a lifeguard tower, I pause to adjust my sunglasses and ask him in Spanish, "¿Qué llevaba tu mamá hoy?"
He points toward the beach entrance, his voice barely audible over the waves: "Un sombrero azul."
I nod and smile, guiding him toward the nearby police station.
My red Moncler coat swishes softly as I lead him inside, where the fluorescent lights overhead cast an artificial glow on our faces.
Two officers are seated at a desk in the front area, one typing on a computer and the other speaking on a phone.
The typing officer looks up as we approach, his eyes flicking between me and the child before focusing on my sunglasses.
"¿En qué puedo ayudarte?" he asks, his tone professional.
I respond in English, "I found this little guy alone on the beach. He's looking for his mother."
The officer nods and reaches for a piece of paper and a pen.
"¿Cuál es su nombre?" he asks the boy gently.
The boy glances up at me uncertainly, and I translate, "¿Cómo se llama tu mamá?"
His lower lip begins to tremble, and I notice his shoulders tensing upward.
Without hesitation, I lift him onto my hip, wrapping the cleaned Moncler coat around his small frame like a blanket.
The fabric engulfs him completely as I begin a gentle swaying motion, my manicured nails softly patting his back through the thick down material.
The boy whispers into my ear, "Se llama Ana."
I nod and relay the information to the officer, "His mother's name is Ana."
The officer scribbles it down, then looks up with a hint of urgency, "We've had a report about a missing woman named Ana just this morning."
He gestures toward the back room, "Wait here for a moment while I check on the situation."
With that, he disappears through a doorway.
The second officer continues making his call, speaking in hushed tones.
I settle into a hard plastic chair against the wall, cradling the boy against my chest.
His small body trembles slightly, so I adjust my hold, letting him rest his head on my shoulder.
The fluorescent lights overhead reflect off my Dior sunglasses as I continue to rock him gently.
As I glance down at the boy's face, I notice tears forming in his eyes.
I press my lips to his forehead, whispering in Spanish, "mmm mi bebé no llores" while stroking his back softly.
The door swings open, and a familiar voice calls out, "¡Mi hijo!"
I look up to see a frantic woman rushing toward us.
The officer follows closely behind, speaking in a low voice to her.
I carefully lower the boy from my hip, keeping the Moncler coat wrapped snugly around him.
As his mother scoops him into her arms, he lets out a sigh of relief and nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck.
She kisses his cheek softly before looking at me with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity.
"¿Cómo se llama usted?" she asks, her eyes locked on my sunglasses.
I give her a gentle smile and respond in Spanish, "No importa. Estoy feliz de que hayan encontrado."
The officer clears his throat, drawing our attention to him.
He holds a small notebook and pen in his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Señora Ana, ¿puede describirme su ropa de hoy?"
She nods and begins to explain, "Tenía un sombrero azul y una falda blanca."
The officer scribbles it down before asking, "¿Y tenía un abrigo? ¿Qué color era?"
She pauses for a moment before responding, "Sí. Era azul claro."
The officer nods and turns to me, his gaze lingering on the abandoned Moncler coat draped over my arm.
"Señorita, ¿puedo preguntarle qué es lo que tiene en su brazo?" I glance down at the coat and respond in English, "I found it abandoned on the beach. I picked it up thinking it might belong to someone who was lost."
The officer's eyes widen slightly as he takes in the luxurious material.
"Entiendo," he says softly before turning back to the woman.
"Señora Ana, ¿puede describirme el abrigo que llevaba hoy?"
She pauses again before responding, "Era un abrigo de invierno blanco. Me lo regaló mi esposo en Navidad."
The officer nods thoughtfully and turns to me once more.
"Señorita, ¿puedo preguntarle si puede esperar aquí por un rato más mientras verificamos la situación?"
I nod silently before adjusting my sunglasses and giving the boy's cheek a gentle pat through the Moncler coat.
As we wait for further updates on the missing woman, I carefully adjust the Moncler coat around the boy's shoulders, ensuring it covers him completely.
The officer returns, his expression serious, "Señorita, parece que hay más en esta historia de lo que pensábamos."
Ana looks between us, concern etched on her face, "¿Qué quiere decir?"
He hesitates for a moment before continuing, "Hemos encontrado un abrigo blanco en la playa, y creemos que podría estar relacionado con otro caso."