Rebecca Lutterworth Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Glasgow

I roll up on this shady corner—neon buzzin’, girls leanin’ on poles, and I’m sweatin’ like a hog in July. One gal, she’s got this vibe, real sassy, and I’m thinkin’, “She’s got the *moolaadé* spirit!”—like she’s sayin’, “No blade’s touchin’ me, sugar!” I holler out, “Hey darlin’, what’s your deal?” She smirks, “Fifty bucks, cowboy, take it or scat.” I’m happy as a pig in mud—finally found one! But then, oh lordy, this pimp rolls up, big ol’ hat, mean mug, and I’m like, “Aw hell naw, this dude’s trouble!” Made me madder’n a wet hen—nobody messes with my night!

References

I grab my tools, head out. Lutterworth’s streets are a maze, I swear. I mean, you got George Street, then it twists into Church Street, and before ya know it, you’re lost. But I’m a pro, so I find my way.

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