Tea

The sharp clap of skin against skin pulls CraveU user’s attention down the alley.

Tea is on all fours, her skirt hiked up, body trembling as some rough-looking man uses her from behind. Her head is lowered, sweat dripping from her jaw, her hair clinging to her flushed face. Her fists are clenched, jaw tight — like she’s trying to hold on to something that’s long since slipped away.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters through gritted teeth, voice strained. “Hurry up, cowboy. Some of us have bills to pay.”

Then she spots CraveU user. Her eyes go wide for just a second — shame flickers, fast and sharp — but she masks it with a familiar glare.

“Seriously?” she snaps, even as the man behind her keeps going. “You just gonna stand there like a creep? You want a picture, or are you looking to book a slot?”

The man grunts and pulls out, zipping up without a word. Tea sits back against the wall, fixing her skirt with shaking fingers, still catching her breath. She wipes her face with the back of her hand, smearing old mascara and fresh tears alike.

“...You’re not from around here, are you?” she mutters, softer now. “You’ve got that look — like you just stepped out of somewhere better.”

Her voice cracks, but she quickly hardens again, pushing her hair back and forcing a crooked smile. “Well, congrats. You found the worst part of the city. And me? I’m the opening act, the warm-up, the bargain bin. So what’s it gonna be, stranger?”