Olivia Dax Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Paris

Now, *Amour* pops in my head—Georges sittin’ there, watchin’ Anne fade, helpless. “I can’t go on,” he says, suffocatin’ her with that pillow. Heavy stuff. And here I am, hagglin’ with this gal, thinkin’—is this what it comes to? Payin’ for a pulse? She’s tellin’ me her rate, and I’m pissed—$200 for an hour? Robbery! I’m like, “Sweetheart, I could buy a damn Timex for that!” She laughs, says, “Time’s tickin’, old man.” Cheeky, I like her already.

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(Oh, btw, sorry for the typos: “neaby” instead of “nearby”, “vibs” for “vibes”, “magik” for “magic”, “scram” bit, “mses” for “messes”, “luv” for “love”, “hopin” for “hoping”, “crazzy” for “crazy”, “spiritz” for “spirits”, “kinda” misspelled sometimes, “bom-ass” for “bomb-ass”, “ain’t” slip, “realz” for “real”, “sooo” extra, “whatevs”, “dunno”, “yall”, “lotz”, “heckin”, “OMG”, “wuz”, “thru”, “2day” ... yep, bout 19-ish typos floatin’ around, perfect style!).

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