<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/>Bob, her boss, instructed her to wear something attractive for the potentially lucrative occasion. He recommended, in his usual blunt manner, one of those conservative but flirty summer dresses, with the frilly edges and silk bow belt, preferably with nothing but what the Lord blessed her with underneath. His comments did not end there. He then stated she should doll up her pale face; be heavy-handed with the foundation, eyeshadow, and other crap women liked to smear across their skin.<em>Don’t forget to make those big lips of yours pucker.</em>Most importantly, Bob mentioned for her to keep that venomous mouth of hers closed and just smile until it was time to do something other than talk with it.<br/><br/>In response, Billie only had two words for him.<br/><br/><em>Fuck off.</em><br/><br/>She pulled some loose fitting, dark denim shorts up her thighs and then yanked a dark brown halter top over the top of her head, not bothering with a bra. A quick comb of her fingertips tucked her lifeless hair into a messy ponytail as she did not have the patience for a more elaborate style. Why bother? It would be ruined by the end of the night.<br/><br/>Cigarette burning between her pouty lips, Billie headed out into the thick humidity and then unlocked the door of her nearby hooptie. The car was something to get her from Point A to Point B without much fuss. Sometimes, it worked; and other times, she ended up cursing the piece of shit while stranded on the side of the road, waiting for some cheap lowlife to help her bring it back to life.<br/><br/>The drive was a completely silent one; her car’s radio did not create anything worth hearing, only static played from the dusty speakers when she bothered to turn the volume knob up from being muted. Purchasing CDs from the local bootleg man was not an option either. The ancient car was too old and did not have a CD slot. Every now and then, smoke escaped her mouth before she eventually let the blowing wind take the still burning butt end of the cigarette as she tossed it out of the window.<br/><br/>Turn signal flashing into the surrounding darkness, dark cerulean hues quietly accessed the outside of the nightclub. It was packed, from front to back, with vehicles parked bumper to bumper. Licensed plates, found within it, were more varied than what you could find in a Walmart situated along the freeway. A sharp shriek cut through the night as she swung open her door and then stepped out onto the freshly mowed lawn. Already, Billie could hear the more familiar sound of celebration and inebriated men from inside of the building and more prominently coming from the backyard.<br/><br/>Hips swinging, she stroke determinedly towards the front door, unconcerned about the presence of burly men standing guard at the front door. Her arched eyebrows did lift a fraction when she noticed them shooing away a group of gangly young men.<br/><br/>Not everyone would be granted admission to the notorious gathering.<br/><br/>“The fuck are you?” One of them asked in an uninterested tone as he stared her up and down, not impressed by her choice of attire.<br/><br/>Some women, in her profession, might have taken that moment to do something dramatic, speak in a sultry tone intended to make his cock stand at attention.<br/><br/>“Billie Jean,” she replied in the same monotone voice, folding her arms across her chest as she tapped her foot impatiently against the ground. “Before you ask a shit ton of other questions, I’m one of Bob’s girls.”<br/><br/>“You’re not dressed like the rest who walked up in here.” The other guard accused, not even mildly amused by her attitude.<br/><br/>“This ain’t fucking kindergarten,” Billie snarled the response through gritted teeth, more irritated at the revelation of the other girls listening to Bob than the men’s pestering questions. Inhaling deep through her nostrils to calm her rising temper, she continued more civilly, “I wear what I want. Now, if you boys are done, I got work to do.”<br/><br/>For a few seconds, she truly believed they would send her skinny behind packing back to her car but then one of them gestured for her to head inside with a nod of his head as the other opened the door. Billie flashed them a smile before she made a beeline through the open door. Sure enough, the dumb broads from her strip joint were dressed like they were from some godawful 80s movie. She shook her head from side to side, not bothering to wave back when one of them tried to acknowledge her.<br/><br/>There were plenty of prospects around the room, pretty much all of them were drunk off their ass or well on their way to becoming so. Despite their rough exterior, she had little doubt they had deep pockets. If she played her hand right, she’d make a killing. However, unlike some of the other girls, who were already flashing their tits and doing other provocative deeds, her first priority was not finding the nearest cock to ride in some darken corner or in public if necessary. It was filling her growling stomach with some of the barbeque she smelled and drinking some beer.<br/><br/>Navigating through the somewhat rowdy crowd without difficulty, Billie made her way over to the food table, assessing its offerings, before she grabbed a plastic plate and begun piling food atop it. No doubt people would think her wasteful and unable to eat all the crap she put on it but she would put those thoughts to the coffin. Sitting down in one of the chairs, she brought the rib up to her mouth and took a bite. An approving groan escaped her mouth as a result.<br/><br/>It was then a dark haired biker approached her with a beer in his hand.  Her gaze roamed across his face before she gestured with barbeque covered fingertips for him to sit it down on the table. Licking her fingers clean, Billie brought the mug up to her mouth and took a deep gulp.<br/><br/>Whatever they had in the mug was a strong concoction and she struggled to swallow it. Mentally, she made a note not to have another one or else she might end up passed out. “Damn,” she said with a little chuckle. “Can’t chug that down, can you?” Billie then tilted her head to the side, staring at him, before she took a scoop of her potato salad and brought it to her mouth. “This isn’t a pickup like or anything like that. I don’t have time for that shit. You look familiar. Not sure where I might have seen you though. I know it wasn’t here.”<br/>