<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/f3/6f/09/f36f09bc623979bf3d4a4d2dabd81153.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Billie Tucker (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=250173.msg12378952#msg12378952)<br/><strong>City | Date | Time:</strong>San Francisco | 8/6/17| 10 p.m.<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Shorts and Tank Top | Sandals  (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/78/16/71/781671e6c2ca0efdc18939663afd20f5.jpg)<br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>Ryan 'Private' Murray (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=250450.msg12386437#msg12386437)<br/><strong>Content:</strong><em>Making Money</em><br/><hr/><br/>The taste of the drink lingered in her mouth, burning her cheeks and throat with its potency, but the slight discomfort did not prevent or slow down her enjoyment of the barbequed ribs. Not when a decent meal had evaded her in recent days. Billie lacked the patience needed to prepare a meal, especially one which required more than three steps. Usually, she mooched off her younger sister but of late the food had been poorly crafted, either burnt beyond recognition or over seasoned to the point where even a drink could not aid swallowing it down.<br/><br/>Yes, she could order from somewhere around her neighborhood. However, half of the time, none of the fancier and worthwhile places were open by the time she had the urge to feed herself. Either that or they did not deliver their four star appetizers and entrees beyond the tables in their pompous restaurants.<br/><br/>The next time she took a swing of whatever he handed her, Billie did not swallow it as eagerly as before, exercising some caution and good ol’ fashioned common sense. Around her, some of the other workers did not, attempting to look “cool” in front of their prospective buyers. She did not bother hiding her disgust, rolling her dark blue eyes, when one of the other bitches ran out of the party, as if her panties were filled with crabs, hand clamped over her mouth, presumably to paint the ground with her vomit. If she was going to choke on anything tonight, it sure as fuck was not going to be some fucking beer.<br/><br/>Her relaxed laughter joined his rumbling chuckles when he made an unexpected comment that she did not anticipate hearing from him or anyone else at the gathering. No flattery induced blush crossed her cheeks, though her face still remained a bit reddened from the heat of the drink spreading through her system.<br/><br/>“Mmm,” Billie said with a cleaning lick of her index finger, a motion not intended for his benefit but general pleasure, before she broke off another piece of meat to pop into her mouth. “As fun as your crowd is, I wouldn’t fit in.” She shrugged her shoulders as she chewed a little before swallowing the food in her mouth. “I have never been a big fan of riding. I always liked sitting, preferably on men’s faces. We can talk about that later though.”<br/><br/>She frowned a little, prodding her memory banks more deeply to come up with an answer, before her lips curved into a full-fledged grin, his explanation making their not-encounter less murky in her thoughts. “That’s where I know you from. I was at your match. I forget who you were fighting.” Billie bit her lower lip, pouted slightly, before she spoke again. “What was his name? Something stupid. Fuck it. I can’t remember. Anyways, you beat the shit out of him. Some people were calling you the Unbreakable man after the match.” She reached out and accepted his hand, shaking it, only noticing afterwards that she got his hands a little messy. “My bad. I’m Billie, with an I-E instead of a Y at the end. How long will you be in Cali this time?”<br/>