"Thanks. Just don't get weird and obsessive, and you'll get to here me sing all night," she smirked, crossing her arms, lifting her sizable breasts.<br/><br/>"What am I doing here? I'm here because I can't go out and get fucked silly in New York without some paparazzi chasing after me. Here I can, for a price," she added, grinning darkly, shamelessly eying Franklin up, like he was some prime steak.<br/><br/>Walking over to Franklin, Sheena stalked around him, looking him over carefully. "Tight shorts," she murmured, slapping his ass sharply. "Grimy shirt."<br/><br/>"This won't do. We're heading down town, you need to look the part. Come, I need to dress you right," she snarked, standing back beside Carrie.<br/><br/>"You're right, I do like him. Someone I can sink my teeth into," she whispered to the older woman.<br/><br/>"You said you like my music? Good, because we're going out to a club-crawl tonight. I'm not talking some showy shit like the Glamour, or the Tropic. We're going to the Rat's Den, Fred's Slaughter House, and the Harlequin Hotel. You been there before?" It was a rather stupid question. Looking at Franklin's jock-boy looks, she knew he hadn't. And if he had, he'd only have gone once. The people at the Rat, House and Hotel would eat him alive.