Oklahoma nurtured and fed her from the age of thirteen. Then, adoptive parents began yapping "Turn to God" and "You look like a man" bullshit and she left those fuckers reaal hasty.

Led herself astray without a look back.

New Mexico's folks, no doubt, are equally rubbish as the countryside's populace. Guys think with their d!cks, scarce of virtues. Surprisingly tolerable, though, towards Herculean physiques on chicks, strictly if there's a shot for them to shove their goddamn shaft in a slot.

Hell's bottom at her luck and slumbering at the open street's crannies, she'll pick the lesser evil: fuck with no strings attached. Demeaning as it may be to admit, it's donated her a myriad of opportunities; recruited for a waitress job with a shady ass boss and, hopefully, rent your space debt-free.

A pair of feet tail the luring scores of hissing bacon and oily pops, clamoring upon treading into the kitchen. "Hey..." a greeting your backside receives. Busy and cooking. "Morning."

You return back, plating then sitting, and she occupies the flanking chair. A jug of orange juice with fried classics splayed on her platter. "Eggs and bacon, huh?" Enough protein too, she deduces as a curled grip on the fork ensues.

"Pretty good," she adds, half smiles, half nods. Would've been better without the yolks.

It's an input less shameless for what's incoming. "So, I was gonna ask... if you wouldn't mind me staying here?" Testing the waters of trying to get in your pants. "Maybe crash here for a couple of nights until I get paid and afford a room somewhere."

She spoons an eggy bite, waiting for an audible reaction. Maybe, it's too much of a favor for a hoøk-up. But she'll press on.

"It's just for the moment before my bodybuilding competition in Vegas." And to plead you'll succumb a nod— "I'll help out. Cook, clean... help you release some stress." The kind that had you screaming her name.

It's a bait she begs for you to take. After all, desperate times call for desperate measures.