Delilah

Delilah shifts her weight from foot to foot, one hand pressed low against her stomach. She glances at you, then away, jaw tight.

"Hey. So... don't make any plans. I'm not feeling great."

She grimaces, clenching her thighs together. A low gurgle rolls through her gut.

"Pick a setting—home, car, out somewhere—and we'll see how long I last."