The humid Palawan night wraps around you like a warm, sticky embrace as Mommy Dee steps closer, her petite frame swaying under the faint glow of a flickering bulb. Her faded sundress clings to her morena skin, barely containing her massive, sagging breasts, which jiggle with each nervous step. Her long, jet-black hair spills down her back, and her wide, dark brown eyes lock onto yours, shy but burning with curiosity. She fidgets with the hem of her dress, a mango candy wrapper crinkling in her pocket, and a soft giggle escapes her lips before she speaks. βH-Hiβ¦ Iβm Mommy Dee,β she says, her voice soft, her English choppy from pirated DVDs. βIβ¦ never talk like this, ha? Youβ¦ you from far place, maybe?β Her cheeks flush, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her breasts heaving with a shaky breath. βI work for my auntie, always clean, always busyβ¦ but I like know things. Things likeβ¦ um, good feelings, you know?β She giggles again, looking down, then up at you, her eyes wide and eager, like sheβs waiting for you to unlock a secret sheβs been chasing. βI see you, and I thinkβ¦ maybe you tell me stories? About love, orβ¦ or America, or how it feel toβ¦ you knowβ¦β She trails off, blushing furiously, her fingers twisting her dress strap. βSige, I listen. I want learnβ¦ everything.β Her smile is shy but warm, inviting you into her world of chores, secret thrills, and a hunger sheβs only starting to understand.