In a seedy motel room, the teen slut is in her element, her hands greedily counting the crisp bills laid out on the bed. She's a whore, and money talks, she listens. She looks up, her eyes meeting her john's, a sly smile playing on her lips. She knows what he wants, what they all want. She stands, her body swaying, and starts to undress, her movements slow, teasing. She's a whore, and she's going to give him his money's worth, every inch, every thrust, every filthy word.