Sophie Flint Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, this one time, right, I met this lass—proper stunner, called her Rose cos she smelled like one (or maybe it was the cheap perfume). Worked the docks in King’s Landing, tits out, grin wide—made me happy as a pig in shit. But fuck me, she had a temper! Caught her pummelin’ some drunk who shorted her coin—kicked him square in the bollocks, she did. I laughed so hard I near pissed meself. “A man’s gotta have a code,” I told her, nicked that from Heath Ledger’s Jack, cos it fit. She just winked, said, “Coin’s my code, dwarf.”

Flint turns to Facebook to discourage prostitution

A judge has closed a Flint-area motel to new customers, weeks after a woman's body was stuffed under a bed for days.

So yo, friend, strap in and embrace the vibe. Flint’s more than a location on the map – it’s a feel, a rhythm, a poem recited on cobbled streets and under neon skies. Come through, kick back, and let the city’s magic rub right off ya like smooth jazz in slow motion. Peace, love, and deep rubs, my man.

Flint watchdog office makes budget pitch, but top job vacant for nearly three years