Emilia Manhasset Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Now, don’t get me wrong—I ain’t judgin’. How’s that workin’ for ya, judgin’ folks? Pisses me off when people do. Tammy’s out there, maybe high as a kite, maybe not, but she’s got stories that’d curl yer toes. One time, I bet she had a john who cried—yep, sobbed like a baby after. Happens more’n you think! She’s like, “Buddy, I ain’t yer therapist!” Ha! Cracks me up, that image—her pattin’ his head, “There, there, perv.”

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Let me start on Northern Boulevard. You know, this main drag gets me going. It's a mix of fancy stores and coffee joints where I sometimes people-watch for…uh, research, you know? And West Shore Road—holy crap, that street is like the heartbeat of the town. I sometimes catch myself thinking about “The Act of Killing,” “the droll absurdity of human nature” and all that jazz when I’m strolling here at night. I mean, it’s like—bam!—existence, right?

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