Chapter 11

• Her huge, droopy boobs are hanging everywhere, and her black roots on her bottle-blonde hair looks like a landing strip. My stomach rolls and I glance over at the other women waiting for their turn. I feel my run instincts kick in a little harder. One is wearing a crop top and I can see the bottom of her bra sticking out from underneath, while the other is wearing a dress that is so small, it looks like a shirt. Although attractive, they are all faked tanned to the max.
• Oh, shit.
• I need to go. Fucking hell. I wanted thirty-five dollars an hour. I stand and the office door opens.