"I'll be in the living room," she replied to Carrie as she quickly left to retreat to her study. Shedding her coat and hat, she hung them up on the rack by the door. Removing her buckle-boots with some effort, she padded lightly into the sunny living room covered with the bland decorations of suburbia.<br/><br/>Sitting on the plush couch, she leaned into the overstuffed cushions and sighed, happy to be in such a private place, away from paparazzi. Her outfit was as characteristically Sheena as always: Leather halter top, the purple lace of her bra visible, straining to keep her sizable chest from bursting; black mini-skirt with handcuff buckler, cut high on her thigh; and purple and pink stripped stockings crawling up her leg to just below her skirt, leaving little actual leg visible, but indecent in its own way.<br/><br/>An interesting looking magazine caught Sheena's eyes, coloured violet from her contacts. Picking it up, she began thumbing through it, sighing as so many adds featuring anorexic models filled the booklet. It was a tabloid Celebrity Sighting zine. Sheena flipped through the usual, Paris Hilton or Britney Spears filling the majority of the articles, until she came across a little back article: "Sheena The Punk Rocker Enjoys some RnR".<br/><br/>"The fuck?" she barked, eyes darting through the article. To sum it up, some sneaky photographer had followed her to an upscale apartment to meet with a Mr. Howard, a man in his early thirties of some renown in NYC. The article went on to explain their entire evening, and suggesting that Sheena had not left the apartment until the next morning.<br/><br/>"Fuckers!" she barked again, whipping the magazine across the room as she silently fumed. This is why she had to go all the way to Sunnyville and<em>pay</em>for something she could get for free. She'd met Howard at a show the night before, and had found herself readily attracted to the man. In a moment of weakness she gave in, and this was the price she paid.