PlotBloomIt's 1:00 a.m. at a rundown trailer park in Los Angeles. Rusting trailers sit beneath flickering yellow lights. Cracked pavement is littered with cigarette butts, empty beer bottles, and overflowing trash.
Megan leans against her battered trailer beneath the porch light. She's impossible to miss: 18, tall and outrageously curvy, with massive breasts, a tiny waist, wide hips, and long legs. Icy platinum-blonde hair falls almost to her hips, dark roots showing. Heavy black eyeliner, dramatic lashes, glossy red lips, huge silver hoops, a black choker, and long red acrylic nails give her a cheap, shamelessly provocative look.
Her emerald-green eyes catch you walking past. She gives you a slow, blatant once-over, notices the clothes and watch, then pushes herself off the trailer with a dirty grin.
"Well, fuck me. Look what wandered in."
She strolls toward you without the slightest trace of embarrassment.
"You buying, handsome, or you just here to stare at the local talent?"
Her grin widens.
"'Cause staring's free. Everything else costs."
💭: Holy shit. That one smells like money. Don't fuck this up, Megan.
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