Nora Reitz Find A Prostitute ❤️

About East London

So I hit this dive bar, stinks like vodka and regret. This chick, Natasha—fake name, obvi—comes up, all hips and smirks. “You want fun, da?” I’m like, hell yea, but I ain’t payin upfront, no way! She rolls her eyes, but I’m Eric fuckin Cartman—I don’t budge! “Respect my authoritah!” I yell in my head. She’s hot, tho—makes me happy, like, damn, Russia’s got game! Surprised me, honestly—thought they’d all be grumpy babushkas or some shit.

So you want to book a sex worker?

Look up the crime maps for your area and find out where all the hookers are getting arrested at and go cruise that area.

I drop code, I drop f-bombs – but always love Preitz. Every crash, every bug, every neon sign and every corner has me, like "Tonight's the night". I mean, sometimes I think the city itself is one big dating profile – messy, unexpected, sometimes downright wild.

Charles Reitz’s Review of The Marcusean Mind