Showing No Mercy To A Super Hot Brazilian Gold Digger
The camera pans over the glittering Miami skyline, focusing on a sleek black Lamborghini parked by the curb. The driver’s door swings open, revealing a stunning Brazilian beauty with cascading raven hair, full lips, and curves in all the right places, barely contained by her skin-tight dress. She struts towards the bustling nightclub, drawing envious stares from passersby.
Inside, the club pulses with thumping music and flashing lights, as throbbing bodies writhe on the dance floor. Miss Brazil makes a beeline for the VIP section, where a group of wealthy, middle-aged men sit nursing cigars and scotch.
She saunters over, batting her eyelashes. “Ey Charlie,” purrs the siren, running a finger seductively along the man in the center’s arm. “Promised to take me for a spin in dat new ride of yours.”
Charlie, a brig businessman with a comb-over and paunch, grins lecherously. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Oi, sit down girl. Where’s dat accent from again?”
“Rio de Janeiro,sexa.” She perches on his knee, her dress riding up to reveal a glimpse of lacy black thigh-highs. The other men swoon.
“Hello, ladies and gentlemen,” the camera narrator intones. “You’re about to witness something truly illicit – a gold-digger in action. Let’s follow our deadly seductress and see how deep dat honey pot runs.”
Miss Brazil slinks onto Charlie’s lap, draping her arms around his neck. “I been thinking ’bout our last meeting,” she whispers hotly in his ear. “You got me warmed up, now I need you inside me, stuffed all up in my hot lil’ Brazilian muff. You know I gots to have dat D.”
Charlie sputters into his drink, his pale jowls flushing red. “Why, you saucy minx!” he exclaims, too smug to be offended.
“More!”
The music swells as she grinds on him, rubbing his crotch like a cat in heat, earning a wine-stained smirk from her prey. “Later, tal? Whens we alone,” she finishes, sliding from his lap. “Just you and me.”
The poor sap dribbles scotch, nodding blankly as she saunters away.
“Holy sweet mother of God,” the narrator gasps, screen fuzzing with static. “Did you see that? Un-be-liev-able! I’ve never seen such a brazen floozy. Two thousand dollars worth of champagne and she just adds it to her tab. Gotta give props where they’re due – that girl is a gold-digging exhibit A.”
The camera follows the Brazilian bombshell as she flits from patron to patron, each new VIP more pompous and more loaded than the last. She leaves a trail of dumbfounded wealthy gits in her wake, their jaws slack and eyes glazed.
Final scene: The Brazilian beauty lounges in the velvet seats of the Lamborghini, knobby knees hiked up as she applies cherry red lipstick. Charlie stupidly tooling around Miami Beach as she giggles wickedly.
“shit,” Charlie gasps. “She milked me for five grand! Five grand and the promise of riff, the promised sex would happen…”
“I think we’ve seen more than enough,” the narrator sighs, “Let this be a lesson, fellas – show no mercy for these gold-digging vixens. Why do you think they’re called, ‘baby got back’, ‘Baby got cash’. Catch ’em before they dent your pocketbooks! Keep one eye on their lips, and one hand on your wallet.”
R ratings Fizzles out onto the black screen
