Ann sits there in her little corner of Alabama, streaming from what she calls Red Robin. Not the restaurant though, just her spot that’s probably seen more filthy chat than any bar bathroom in the south. She’s got that lazy smirk like she knows she’s good at twisting men into drooling idiots. Her username’s bitter_moon, which suits her—sweet talker one second, teasing menace the next. No tags on her profile, which kind of fits her vibe. She doesn’t need to spell out what she does; she just lets it happen.
Her room subject’s blank too, because why ruin the mystery? You pop in, and she’s lounging there like she owns the place, cracking jokes and making you question your life choices. The chat keeps filling up with pervs tossing tips like confetti, and she acts like she doesn’t notice. She notices. She feeds on it. You can tell she could mess with a guy’s head even without taking anything off. Pure confidence, pure chaos, wrapped in that southern drawl that slides out of her mouth like honey on cheap whiskey.