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Yeah, Justina developed an intense, totally explicable, love for bad boys very early on. In a local eight-ball hall, Justina’s pool-hustling dad had plopped her onto a green felt table—turned low-railed playpen—with cue in hand at around age four, which probably explains her various pool table shenanigans at sports bars, at rallies, and even at Fantasy Fest. Hell, it might even explain her affinity for the blue, dry-erase, markers she uses on the whiteboards of her classrooms.
“If I can’t use chalk, it’s at least gotta be blue,” Justina has told her adult students.
And, if there’s a pool table within proximity, Justina will discover it, strut around it, pose atop it, and even fuck on it. By the way, she’s not too bad of a shot either: two-ball kisses are her specialty. Ahem . . .
Well, that was the narrow and specific influence of Justina’s dad. But, it was Justina’s uncle Kenny, who’s responsible for her love of motorcycle riding . . . and leather . . .
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