-01-
Dusty roads as far as the eyes could see. The windows of her car were slid down. The music was blaring from her radio. Kayla, on her way to Southern California, was driving through the American southwest. The warm air barely cooled her down, unable to refresh her neckline under her mass of single corn braids. On the left of the road stood a sign. A simple road motel. She could rest in a cool room hopefully.
Kayla pulled up in the driveway and headed to the reception. The doorbell rang as she pushed the door. An old lady greeted her. "Good evening!" She smiled this obvious smile that older people have sometimes when viewing youth reminding them of their old days. Here, in this dusty room full of old paintings and other miscellaneous decorations entered a tall, somewhat slim woman, with a clashing attire that could only pull someone's attention. Kayla wore a white baggy crop-top, whose floating distance between her skin and it only pointed toward substantial breasts. There was not much more to her: matching white mini shorts was all that stood until all the way down to her red and white sandals.
"May I help you?" Asked the lady.