Oct 8, 2017
     "Let me guess... you want my autograph? ---No, a picture, right?â
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     "Let me guess... you want my autograph? ---No, a picture, right?â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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âDonât look at me like that the busted lip isnât because of me. I had to break up a fight. In fact Iâve had to break up so many tonight for some reason. What is it National âNo Chillâ Day or some shit?â
      â-- - Um... the pack does say gluten free, yes. I can throw this in the oven and in twenty minutes we will have the finest Italian Pizza my talentless hands can make. How does that sound?â
    âAlright, I know youâve been holding back so â let loose. Tell me how fucking rad this shirt is. I mean, maybe itâs the bourbon talkinâ, but if I donât get into at least one fists fight with a misogynistic piece of garbage tonight, Iâll be kinda disappointed. So. What says you? You with me or not, we could get matching brass knuckles and everything.â
      âWhy I havenât been answering my phone? Well probably because Iâve been trying to ignore you, surprised you didnât get the message.â
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"You have a choice, you can either order something or get out. Those are your only choices."
       âIâm begging you, rip this food out of my hands or I will never stop eating -- and Iâve already had way too much tonight. Iâll either get a real sugar high or crazy stomachaches, and neither of it will be very fun for you.â
An hour and fifteen minutes of writhing on a stage, sweat-drenched and coked out of his mind like some kind of Iggy Pop incarnate had turned him into a state. But boy, if they didnât pull off a show. The roof creaked, the rafters of the old theater begged for mercy and the bouncers pushed back the three hundred people jumping, screaming, and moshing their way to the front, all clamouring to watch Jude run his vocal cords ragged. He jumped into the crowd and was carried on their hands; there was an encore. One of their finer shows to date. All worth it.
Now, the more generous of his band (read: less famous) had gone outside, signing autographs, taking photos, mingling with the fans. Jude, of course, was too âexhaustedâ to come out, deep in the backstage bowels of the venue. But if anything, exhausted was the last thing he was. The night was still young. He was ready to fuck shit up. Hearing the door open, he didnât turn, continuing to pour his drink. "If your name isnât Hooker or Blow, you can show yourself out.â A line delivered with a devil of a smirk, but hell, maybe he meant it.