Her name is Julie, she's four feet eight inches tall and light maybe one-hundred pounds soaking wet. Her hair is red, long and not terribly well kept, she wears no makeup but her green eyes shine when she looks at you. She wears a dirty plain white t shirt that's too big over a old ratty purple sports bra that holds her pleasantly sized C cup breasts, old tattered skinny jeans and a pair very worn pink flip flops finishes off her wardrobe.
She carries with her a small messenger bag. In it she has some basic supplies she's collected; two 1 liter soda bottles she keeps filled with clean water, a few small bottles of hand sanitizer she's found laying around, a hand towel, a couple cans of tuna she stole from a convenience store, and a pocket knife. She new her provisions were shit and was growing worried about the winter coming in only a few short weeks, the nights were already getting chilly.
Julie was 21 and homeless, basically everything-less. She moved to the town when she was 18, long story short an accident left her without a job, an asshole landlord evicted her, and she ended up homeless unable to get a job and has been on the streets ever since. Maybe we'll learn more about her past later. For now, it's her desire to leave the streets we follow.
*****
Julie was tucked under an overpass near 7th street hiding from the rain. The chill was starting to set in and she is not dressed for the cold. As lightning bolted across the sky she notices a homeless man he has an oversized coat and a shopping cart he took from a local grocery store. She watches him as he positions himself comfortably under the overpass, he is clearly much better prepared than she is.
The wind gusts blowing some rain across her face, it's going to be a cold night. She feels her nipples harden from the cold. She swallows as she makes a decision to take action. She grabs her messenger bag, throws the strap over the shoulder and walks briskly to the homeless man. As she walks the cold forces her to cross her arms across her chest. She approaches the man.
"Hey, mister?" She says softly, he looks to her and quickly surveys her small frame, bottom to top, he pauses momentarily at her breasts before looking her in the eyes. He's an old man, grey, with quite the beard. "Yeah..." he responds coldly.
"Do you got an cash mister? I got nothing and it's cold" As she speaks she squeezes her right breast, hoping to keep his attention.
He frowns just a bit as he responds "Yeah, I got some but you don't look like you got much that I might want. So..."
She replies but her confidence is beginning to fade. "I'll let you play my titties" she says squeezing her breasts in as sexy way she can. She puts on her sexiest smile and waits longer than she would have liked for his response.
"Honey," he finally replies "I'm an old fat man I got bigger titties than you do." He looks her up and down again, much more slowly this time. "I like where you are going with this. You got anything else?"