Olivia Trinitapoli Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Naples

Findin’ one? Psh, ya gotta know the signs. Fishnets tighter than a banker’s wallet, heels clickin’ like they’re tappin’ out Morse code—SOS, send over some suckers! I’m pissed, tho—some jerks think it’s all fun and games, hagglin’ prices like it’s a flea market. Nah, dude, respect the hustle! Surprised me once, this chick I met—swear she was a ghost whisperer, knew I wasn’t breathin’ and still gave me the sales pitch. Ballsy! Loved that. “You’re not like the others,” she says—damn right, I’m freakin’ Beetlejuice!

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First thing, I get to the office, and my boss, Mr. Rossi, is already in a mood. He’s pacing like a caged lion. I’m thinking, “Dude, it’s 8 AM. Chill.” But no, he’s all about this audit that’s due. I mean, come on! It’s Trinitapoli, not Wall Street!

Jenny Trinitapoli receives top honor from UChicago Press