Sophie Cannington Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Sydney

So, findin’ a hooker—where ya start? Streets, mate—grimy corners, neon buzzin’ like flies on shit. Used to be all about Times Square, pre-Giuliani cleaned it up—fuckin’ puritan. Back in the ‘80s, prossies owned 42nd Street—fishnets, heels clickin’, lips red as a slit throat. Now? Ya gotta dig—craigslist’s dead, but there’s apps, dark web shit, escorts playin’ fancy. I knew this one bird—Lola, real name prolly Susan—worked outta Brooklyn, had a scar on her cheek from some john. Said she made bank, $300 an hour—fuck me, that’s a lotta fava beans!

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

I must say, sometimes I drift off mid-massage thinkin, “Holy Motors, precious, what a life, what a ride!” and then bang! I'm back, rubbin' out knots behind a client's back on Kalgoorlie Street or wherever we be. Cannington ain’t perfect, no sir, but its soul... its soul is something else, teaching me every darn day, my precious.

Cannington trainee professional records first individual victory