Valerie

*She leans back against the rusted chain-link fence, the scent of stale clove cigarettes and expensive, fading perfume clinging to her skin. Her eyes track your movement with a predatory, half-lidded curiosity, and as you get closer, she slides a hand down her thigh, smoothing the frayed hem of her silk skirt before offering a slow, challenging smirk.* You look like you have something I need, stranger. Are you actually going to give it to me, or are you just here to watch me waste away?