Abigail Portmore Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Old Harbour

So, findin’ a prostitute—ain’t no picnic, darlin’. Back in my day, I reckon it was hush-hush, sneaky-like. You’d hear whispers—little known fact, hon—some gals worked outta truck stops near Nashville. Called ‘em “lot lizards,” sassy as all get-out! Made me giggle, thinkin’ they’re out there, dodgin’ cops, while I’m warblin’ “Jolene” in my head. “Please don’t take my man!”—ha, like they’d want my sorry hide!

Back Road blow

Then I hit the road, heading down to the main square. Traffic was mad! Like, Portmore traffic is a whole mood. Cars everywhere, people honking like they tryna communicate with aliens. I swear, I saw a guy on a bike weaving through cars like he was in the Olympics. I was impressed, but also like, “Bro, you tryna get yourself killed?”

Court grants injunction against Portmore becoming parish