Scarlett College Point Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Found this one gal—*mimes tippin’ hat*—all red lipstick, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Got any dough?” she says, smirkin’. I’m like—*mumbles, pats pockets*—“Only bread dough!” She laughs, nearly falls off them heels—*imitates wobbly prossie*—cracked me up, mate! Felt all happy, like when I nail a sourdough. But then—*frowns, kicks air*—some drunk git yells at her, “You’re filth!” Made me mad—*grrr, shakes fist*—who’s he to judge? Ain’t his coffee plantation burnin’ down, like in *White Material*. “Everything’s falling apart!” Isabelle’d say—prossie’s life too, innit?

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I gotta mention the quirky murals on Jackson Ave—so bold, so fearless, like proper affirmations: "It’s bad bitch o’clock, all day, every day!" These splashes of color shout out stories of passion and rebel spirit. And trust me, bein’ a sexologist, I see the beauty in every kiss, every glance between strangers—a silent dialogue of body language I swear is poetry.

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