Bria tells him off and leaves

"It'll be our little secret, right?" The old Somali's words jangled in Bria's mind, and as he looked her busty young body over one more time it was clear what the old man had in mind for her. Her pleading blue eyes narrowed in frustration and then rage, and soon the young blonde girl had her hands on her hips, lecturing Mr. Harar about how inappropriate it was for a man, especially in his position, to be trying to take advantage of a girl young enough to be his daughter in such a **** condition. Then, cold, tired and crabby, her rant turned in an unfortunately xenophobic, even racist direction, even dropping a few n-bombs on her way to telling him that he's a pervert and that she hopes he gets sent back to Africa before he defiles any American girls. Then, presenting a defiant middle finger, Bria turned on her heel and stormed out of his place.

Bria had felt a little light-headed from that strange tea, but the increasingly cold Minnesota night immediately demanded her attention as she stomped home across the trailer park still wearing only a soggy skintight bikini. Now her teeth were chattering and her fingers and toes started to feel numb. At this point, she was just looking forward to being wrapped in a blanket indoors before she caught hypothermia.

The blonde beauty rounded the corner to her unit when she noticed that the front door was open. Had she forgotten to close the door when she ran over to see Mr. Harar? Now she couldn't remember. Stepping lightly, she tried to glimpse inside the windows but of course she had drawn the shades to discourage that peeping tom negro with the video camera (where was he now?), but she thought she detected movement from inside. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she wondered if they were being robbed, or even if someone was lying in wait for her.

Afraid, miserable and near-frozen, Bria leaned briefly against the chilled metal structure and she pondered her options, knowing that the one thing she couldn't do was stay where she was...