Savannah Bugyi Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Pecs

Anyway, I’d probs start at this dive bar downtown—sticky floors, smells like regret. Perfect spot to find a prostitute. I’d be chill, sip a beer, scope the scene. Maybe some chick in fishnets winks at me, and I’m like, “Well, hello, darlin’!” Kinda thrilled, kinda freaked—heart’s racin’, palms sweaty. What if she’s a cop? Shit, that’d piss me off—bust my buzz real quick. Or worse, what if she’s got a pimp watchin’ me like I’m dessert? *“A lobby boy can’t be seen to falter!”*—I’d tell myself, keepin’ cool.

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So, I finish my coffee and head to the park by the Bugyi River. It’s a chill spot, but today? Nah, not so much. There’s this group of kids blasting music. I mean, come on! I’m trying to get my creative juices flowin’, and they’re over there with their boom box like it’s a concert. I was ready to throw my coffee cup at them. But then, I thought, “Hey, maybe I can join in.”

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