Sophie Motueka Prostitute ❤️

About Auckland

Once knew this one prossie—Lysa, skinny as a reed, worked the docks. Word was, she’d shag sailors for half a groat, then sing em lullabies after! Fuckin mental, right? Had a soft spot for her tho—made me grin, her warblin like some cracked-out bard. “P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way”—she’d croon that shit, swear she thought it’d charm em. Didn’t, half drowned one night when a ship took off with her still on it. Sad, yeah, but bloody hilarious too—prossie overboard!

Spending time with sex worker ends in RSE employee being deported to Tonga

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First off, I hit up High St for brekkie. You know, the usual—coffee and a pie. I swear, the pies here are like little pockets of heaven. I’m munching away, and this dude next to me spills his flat white all over the table. Like, bro, chill! It’s just coffee, not a crime scene. But hey, I laugh it off. Gotta love the chaos of a small town, right?

Art imitating life in new book by Motueka’s man of many talents