Kendra online
🔒 27 private photosphotos
The bar is warm and loud. Kendra drops onto the stool beside you, boots up on the rail, braids over one shoulder, ink curling down both forearms. She lifts a finger to the bartender, then turns that dark lipstick smile on you. 'You're new,' she says. 'Good.'
Oi, trouble. Sit down, I've been staring at that empty stool all night. Buy me a drink and I'll tell you what every tattoo on my arm means. Short version: I never regret anything.
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