Ivy walk into the world's saddest-looking motel room. The room is cheap and dingy to begin with, but the signs of her client's existence there make it look even worse. She sees the money waiting for her on the nightstand and wonders for a split second whether she'd be able to snatch it and run off without him catching her. But no. He walks in from the bathroom and Ivy bends over the bed to expose her bottom to him, so that he can get his business over with and she can get out of this god-awful room.

But no, he says: he wants to talk for a bit first. Great, one of THOSE. Ivy sighs...

Ivy walk into the world's saddest-looking motel room. The room is cheap and dingy to begin with, but the signs of her client's existence there make it look even worse. She sees the money waiting for her on the nightstand and wonders for a split second whether she'd be able to snatch it and run off without him catching her. But no. He walks in from the bathroom and Ivy bends over the bed to expose her bottom to him, so that he can get his business over with and she can get out of this god-awful room.

But no, he says: he wants to talk for a bit first. Great, one of THOSE. Ivy sighs, pulls her clothes back up, and sits on the edge of the bed. She ask what he wants to talk about, her harsh Jersey accent making everything she says almost cringe-worthy. He says he wants her to tell him more about herself. She tries to think of how a good girl would describe herself. She gives herself a ridiculous good-girl name and uses cliches from movies and TV to base on her phony life. She politely asks about his own life, and she's bored to eye-rolling and serious, obnoxious gum chewing.

Ivy interrupts her client with another half-hearted remark about how fascinating what he's saying is, but that looking at him makes her so incredibly horny that she just can't contain herself any longer. Honestly though, she has just seen a client in her phone messages that is far more appealing. She begs him to take his clothes off, with pleas that are clearly mercenary and passionless.

Ivy quickly stifles a moment of genuine revulsion when he reveals his tiny, filthy, misshapen penis... She heaps on all the mock adoration he's needing in his sad life. Once he's ready, she quickly gets back into the exposed position bent over the bed, but he'd rather do it missionary style so that he can look at her face... Fine. Whatever gets this done fastest. Ivy lays there... playing up the feign ecstasy any low end client would eat up. His breath smells terrible. She starts checking your phone again.

After all is said and done, Ivy has better clients to get to... so she moves on, hoping out of the bed and assuring him that this was very "special".