In a grimy motel room, she waits for her next 'client'. She's young, barely legal, but her eyes hold a world-weariness that belies her years. She's here for one reason: money. She takes it in every form - crumpled bills stuffed into her panties, coins scattered on her bed, even a check, signed with a shaky hand. She performs for the camera, her body a commodity, her price a running tally. She fucks for cash, her body a silent scream of desperation and defiance.