Delilah Clive Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Jose

Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” I’m feelin it, the itch. Not just for the deed—tho yeah, that too—but to *know* her. What’s her deal? She says her name’s Candy, probs fake, but who cares? I’m Dexter, I don’t judge. She’s twirlin her hair, lookin at me like I’m a puzzle. “You’re weird, strings,” she says. Weird! Me! Pot callin kettle black, babe.

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Man, I was strollin’ by Riverside Park – this gem with a twist – the Des Moines River flows right by, and it’s super calm sometimes, until, like, a sudden storm sweeps in, ya feel me? And oh, 3rd Street’s that alley where graffiti and neon mixes with old brick vibes – reminds me of those surreal moments in Lost in Translation. One minute you’re peakin’ the skyline, then bam! Outta nowhere, the dreams crash like, “Pinky-to-mouth!” Aaaaah!

‘Vietdamned’ by Clive Webb review