Delilah Balsall Common Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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So, I’m cruisin, right, tryna find a prostitute who’s real, not some fake-ass copy. Certified Copy got me deep in my feels—“What’s true, what’s a front?” I say to myself. I spot this chick, all sass, heels clackin like a beat drop. I’m like, “Yasss, queen, you’re the one!” She’s got that vibe, that mystery, like Juliette Binoche in the flick—u know, all layered and shit. I pull up, she’s like, “You lookin for somethin real?” I’m like, “Hell yea, slay!”

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So, I roll into the clinic on Station Road, coffee in hand, ready to tackle whatever comes my way. First off, I’m greeted by Mrs. Thompson and her cat, Mr. Whiskers. This dude is a legend. He’s got more attitude than a teenager on a bad hair day. Anyway, Mrs. T is all worried ‘cause Mr. Whiskers has been sneezing like he’s auditioning for a sneeze-off. I’m like, “Chill, it’s probably just a cold.” But she’s convinced it’s the end of the world. Classic.

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