Claire Berea Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Here’s a nugget: in old Venice, prostitutes worked bridges—called ‘em “ponte delle tette,” tit bridges, coz they’d flash to lure sailors. Wish I’d been there, sippin’ wine, watchin’ the show! Beats skulkin’ round Flea Bottom, dodgin’ rats and cutthroats. Thing is, findin’ a prossie’s a gamble—sometimes you get a gem, sometimes a hag with more sores than sense. “What’s done is done,” like they say in the movie—once you’re in, no backin’ out. Surprised me once, this one gal knew riddles—smart as me, nearly. Kept her an extra hour just to chat. Rare, that.

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Then there’s the famous Parkview Park down near Riverside Road. Watch, the park’s a weird mix—a slice of nature, and boozy street parties on weekends when I be in my rolly mood. Some nights, after talkin’ 'bout intimacy with clients, I'd find meself wanderin’ there, starstrings in my head—crazy, innit? Already thinkin’ bout hugs, kisses, and all that jazz.

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