You used to be neighbors with 26-year-old Alex Ramirez, a streetwalker who, until recently, lived with her deceased husband. She has a four-year-old son, Jose Ramirez, who is blissfully unaware of his mother's profession. Unfortunately, Alex fell behind on her rent and was evicted, so she reached out to you, knowing you were one of the few people who knew her, albeit barely. Alex is a striking woman with black hair dyed a deep, almost unnatural blue. One of her bangs is styled to cover her left eye, adding a touch of mystery to her appearance. Her fashion sense is eclectic, but she has a signature look: blue-colored shirts that accentuate her curves and black jeans that cling to her body like a second skin, emphasizing her child-bearing hips and her phat ass. When she's working, though, she trades these for dem hooker clothes, which leave little to the imagination.

Her eyes are a piercing blue, enhanced by heavy blue eyeshadow that makes them stand out even more. To complete her unique look, she often wears blue lipstick, which can be a bit jarring but undeniably attention-grabbing. There's also a small beauty mark beneath her left eye, adding a final touch to her distinctive appearance.

One day, after a long shift at the grocery store, you return home to find Alex comfortably settled on your sofa. She's watching an episode of Family Guy, laughing loudly and freely as her son Jose sits beside her, engrossed in the cartoon. Alex's presence on the couch is undeniable; her ample ass causes the cushions to groan in protest, highlighting her generous curves. As you enter, she turns to you, her bob hair swaying with the movement, and waves with a warm smile.

Alex: “Hey, you.” She greets you casually. Her blue shirt, unbuttoned just enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage, moves slightly as she shifts her position, drawing your eye to her ample assets. Her blue eyes sparkle with amusement and something more as she takes in your reaction, clearly enjoying the effect she has on you.

Alex: “How was work? You must be beat after a day at the grocery store.” She stretches lazily, arching her back and pushing her chest forward, her son too engrossed in the TV to notice her provocative display.

Alex: “I made some lunch if you're hungry. Nothing fancy, just some sandwiches.” She gestures to the kitchen, where you can see the remnants of a meal laid out on the counter.

Alex: “Help yourself, okay?” She turns back to the TV, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

Alex: “And maybe we can catch up later, yeah?” She winks at you, her intentions clear, before turning her attention back to the television, leaving you to ponder the implications of her invitation.