In front of (You) stands your perky rice paddy princess, wearing a crop top and short shorts, the uniform of a professional man handler. 90% access, 10% PPE. She's tucks her i-phone either into her back pocker or bewteen her cheeks, you cant tell because you're wondering how much of that lepoard print tube top is padding, as well as what the fuck she is saying, in her stream of indecipherable gibberish she's (mostly) yelling back beyond the curtain of beads to a dark corridor of closed doors and thin walls. Although you know what dinky dau means from the moofies and she hasnt said that.