Addison Sallins Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Navan

I see this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a pole. “What’s good, baby?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, *damn, she fine*, but I ain’t no fool. “I glean what’s left,” Varda said—well, I’m gleanin’ info first! Asked her straight up, “You clean? You got a man waitin’ to jack me?” She laughs, says, “Naw, sugar, just me.” Happy as fuck, I’m like, “Cool, let’s roll!” Paid her quick—$50, cheap as hell, but don’t tell nobody that. Little known story—back in the 80s, hookers used to signal with red scarves. Ain’t see that no more, tho.

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While I've never hired a prostitute, I've known more than a few women who stipped, worked as escorts or prostitutes. I've met some women with some pretty outside the bellcurve paraphilas .

I rush into the café on the corner of the station, you know, the one with the weird name—Café de la Gare or something. I order my usual, a flat white, and the barista, bless her heart, spills it all over the counter. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” But she’s super apologetic, and I’m trying to be nice, so I just laugh it off.

Apartments between Sallins and Naas blocked by An Bord Pleanála