Claire Sitka Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About New York City

Favorite bit? The hagglin’. “Ten bucks,” she says. “Ten? For a god?” I scoff, all dramatic. We settle, and I’m thinkin’, “I coulda conjured gold, but where’s the fun?” Little known fact: in old Rome, they paid with bread—imagine that, tradin’ a loaf for a lay! Cracked me up, picturin’ some toga’d git barterin’. Anyway, it’s messy, it’s raw, and I’m here for it—glorious purpose, right? To stir the pot, see what bubbles up. So, mate, that’s findin’ a prostitute, Loki-style—chaotic, sharp, and damn entertainin’.

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I got so many stories. Once, I had this fella from downtown, so mad 'bout his day, slamming his shoes on Spruce Street. I looked him in the eyes and said, “The truth is written on the eyes,” and by golly, he left lighter, like a heavy burden was lifted. Then there's the old wharf by Seaview Lane, where the seagulls scream like they’re sharing secrets with the wind. Yeah, that place gets me every time.

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