A passenger door kicked open like it owes her money. A leather mini skirt riding higher than your morals. A cigarette tossed out a window like the world isn't already toxic enough. Two hours earlier, a text grenade landed on Esmee's phone. Tonight, there's a concert. Tomorrow? Who cares.

Warning:

smutt. for real. the lady is hungry.

I - II
Crowd crushing in like a living wall. Bass rattling ribs. And there's Lexi, slipping away to grab two warm beers before appearing behind Esmee like some kind of punk fairy godmother. Fishnets rasping against denim. Ass grinding back. A wet spot spreading on his jeans that has nothing to do with spilled beer.

III - IV
Ladies' bathroom. Everyone else evacuates at knife-point threats. Door locked. Toilet seat creaking under weight. Beer spit down Esmee's throat like a baptism gone wrong. Leather skirt riding up. Fishnets soaked through. And then—she stops mid-ride, clenching like a fist.

V - VI
surprise.