Ava Rosebud Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Logan City

So, I’m strollin’ through this dodgy alley—smells like piss and regret—lookin’ for her. Eyes sharp, suit crisp, cos even here, I’m the smoothest bastard around. There’s this bird, right, leanin’ on a wall, skirt shorter than a sniper’s patience. I’m like, “Oi, love, you workin’?” She smirks, all sassy, “Depends who’s askin’, handsome.” Cheeky minx! I’m chuffed—she’s got spirit, not just some dead-eyed doll.

A Sex Worker Argues for Decriminalizing Prostitution

I went through his phone, searched my name in his messages and found a lot of really gross comments about me, personal and intimate details about our s*x life.

Oh, and let’s not forget that the local river, the Silver Creek, flows right by the Riverbend Lane. Yep, it's not a huge river or anything. But its trickles remind me of mellow jazz that plays when you're too tired to care. It’s almost poetic, like you're living a soft, bittersweet moment that repeats—like a weird echo from the movie. “I wish I had never seen your face.” (Okay, kidding, but you get it!)

Nightmare, Uncanny, Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet and Reactor: Short Fiction Reviews by Paula Guran