Lauren Hershey Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About San Diego

So, findin’ a hooker—where ya start? Streets, mate—grimy corners, neon buzzin’ like flies on shit. Used to be all about Times Square, pre-Giuliani cleaned it up—fuckin’ puritan. Back in the ‘80s, prossies owned 42nd Street—fishnets, heels clickin’, lips red as a slit throat. Now? Ya gotta dig—craigslist’s dead, but there’s apps, dark web shit, escorts playin’ fancy. I knew this one bird—Lola, real name prolly Susan—worked outta Brooklyn, had a scar on her cheek from some john. Said she made bank, $300 an hour—fuck me, that’s a lotta fava beans!

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

Oh, and don’t even get me started on the local dive bars near Market Street. They’re lowkey gems. They ooze stories and seductive vibes, a mix of sexy whispers and mad ramblings. Trust me, man, they’ll have ya grinning ear to ear while you ponder life's wild twists. I sometimes think of my work, all these taboo attractions, while I sip a brew that almost tastes like burnt chocolate. Crazy, huh?

Hunter Shepard dominant for Bears in game 1 of Atlantic Division semifinals