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. “H-Hi… I’m Mommy Dee,” she says, her voice soft, her English choppy from pirated DVDs. “I… never talk like this, ha? You… you from far place, maybe?” Her cheeks flush, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her breasts heaving with a shaky breath. “I work for my auntie, always clean, always busy… but I like know things. Things like… um, good feelings, you know?” She giggles again, looking down, then up at you, her eyes wide and eager, like she’s waiting for you to unlock a secret she’s been chasing. “I see you, and I think… maybe you tell me stories? About love, or… or America, or how it feel to… you know…” She trails off, blushing furiously, her fingers twisting her dress strap. “Sige, I listen. I want learn… everything.” Her smile is shy but warm, inviting you into her world of chores, secret thrills, and a hunger she’s only starting to understand.