Ivy Sleidinge Find A Prostitute ❤️

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So check this—findin’ a prostitute ain’t no cakewalk, ya dumbasses. I’m scrollin’ X, tryna peep profiles, see who’s out there slingin’ ass. Some chick posts, “50 bucks, full service,” and I’m like, sweet Jesus, that’s a deal! But then—bam!—her pic’s blurry, prolly a catfish, and I’m pissed! “Respect my authoritah!” I yell at the screen, ‘cause I ain’t wastin’ my cash on some fake-ass hoe. Fun fact, tho—back in the 1800s, prostitutes in Paris had these secret codes, like wearin’ red ribbons meant they was “open for biz.” Ain’t that some wild shit?

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Oh honey, lemme tell ya 'bout Sleidinge (be)! This lil' town, it's quirky as all get-out – like, I'm jawin’ on every dang street! So, ya got rue de l’Eglise – a cobble stone street, smellin’ like fresh baked bread waftin’ from that tiny boulangerie over yonder. I swear, walkin’ there, you’d feel like you just stepped into some odd Quentin Tarantino flick. "I love rumors!" I’d shout sometimes, just like in Inglourious Basterds – shoot, it’s that kinda vibe down here.

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