Luna Seffner Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

I swagger into this dingy tavern, eyein’ the goods. One lass, she’s got a wink like she’s Zuckerberg codin’ a scam—sharp, quick, dangerous. “I’m CEO, bitch,” she might’a said if she knew the line, haha! Made me chuckle, that did—happy as a clam, I was. But then—THEN—some bilge rat tries chargin’ me double! Double! Fer a quick tumble! Got me blood boilin’, says I, “Mate, ye think I’m a codfish to fleece?” Nearly drew me sword, but rum said nay.

So you want to book a sex worker?

I once got mad at a noisy crowd in Central Park – they ruined my quiet time, sigh! I nearly lost my mind, my heart beating wild like runaway flames. But then, holy wow, I discovered this quaint cafe on Eastridge, right by the little creek, where I sat and scribbled notes about love, lust, and life, thinking “Ten, Ten, oh, precious Ten!” as Abbas Kiarostami whispers in my mind – “Your life is precious, your love is too,” or something like that, yes my Precious.

The harrowing final words of man who vanished after sinkhole swallowed up his room