Olivia Shively Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Los Angeles

Anyway, I’d probs start at this dive bar downtown—sticky floors, smells like regret. Perfect spot to find a prostitute. I’d be chill, sip a beer, scope the scene. Maybe some chick in fishnets winks at me, and I’m like, “Well, hello, darlin’!” Kinda thrilled, kinda freaked—heart’s racin’, palms sweaty. What if she’s a cop? Shit, that’d piss me off—bust my buzz real quick. Or worse, what if she’s got a pimp watchin’ me like I’m dessert? *“A lobby boy can’t be seen to falter!”*—I’d tell myself, keepin’ cool.

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Speaking of raw truth, there's a mad energy at the corner of St. Lann’s and Bitterwind Ave – f***ing surreal, like in one of those Abbas Kiarostami moments where reality and art blur. Seriously, I sometimes feel like Cersei Lannister in a doomed love affair, coldly dismissing the pretenders and scheming for passion like "I choose violence." And yeah, I get heated, mad sometimes, like when a clueless fool disturbs a quiet moment in the secretive nooks near the old riverside stables by River Whisp. It's infuriating, yet brilliant.

Woman dead after car crashed into ditch in Shively