Emma Logan Square Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Last week—pissed me off—some dude on X bragged ‘bout “classy escorts.” Classy? Ha! Like lipstick on a pig. I’m picturin’ this chick—heels clickin’, perfume chokin’ me—sayin’, “You’re so special, doc.” Bullshit. Reminds me of *Her*: “I can’t live in your book anymore.” Yeah, lady, I ain’t your fairy tale either. Prostitutes don’t love ya—they clock in, clock out. Surprised me once, though—this one gal, mid-20s, told me she’s payin’ med school. Med school! Swear to God, I nearly hugged her—then remembered the germs.

The Red Room

Oh, and the parks! Palmer Square is my secret retreat. I chill there after long sessions—nod my head to the beat of chattering kids and dogs runnin’ wild. Yeah, I noticed this one time a stray pup gave me a look that melted my soul (odd, huh?), and I just sat there thinkin’ how every little thing counts.

Experts Organize Self-Defense Classes In Response To Logan Square Sexual Assaults