Road to Desire
She led me into a commercial grade kitchen where another group of women were chugging beer and pulling out hamburger and hotdog buns, condiments, and bags of chips.
“Everyone, this is Dani,” Mags said. “Booker’s woman.”
The group stopped what they were doing. And I mean, stopped. All of a sudden, I had ten sets of eyes on me, most curious, but one pissed. She was tall, probably five-foot-eight, dark hair with a purple strip dyed down the side and just like the rest of the ladies in the room, her hair was big. She wore a black pair of leather pants, a strapless bustier, and four-inch hooker boots. She looked like a p**n star complete with fake eyelashes and even faker boobs.