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The look of contempt is sufficient to know her feelings, without the dismissive arm waved to indicate your whole body. Your mind races as you try to recall what she does... is doing right now. It comes to you: Sheila Armstrong - Talent Agent.
Hell, you don't even know your own name.
"Trust me, it's a talent." A gruff male voice sounds out from behind to defend you. "and Candy's got it in spades."
Turning around you take in your defender. A behemoth of a man, who towers over you.
You don't know what your 'talent' is either, it's unsettling how lost and overwhelmed you feel. As you leave, his arm snakes protectively around you. A beefy hand cupping and cradling one succulent ass cheek as he guides you from the room. He pats your ass to keep you in motion.
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