Katherine Sutton Prostitute ❤️❤️

About San Jose

Amélie’s eyes, so big, so kind. Sees beauty, she does. Prostitute’s eyes? Tired, man. Seen too much, they have. “What you do, you become,” Yoda’d say. Tricks turnin’, cash flowin’. Met one once—Lola, her name. Smiled, she did, but hollow, it was. Broke my heart, dude. Happy? Nah, not her. Surprised me—tough as nails, she was. Carried a tiny knife, badass! Said, “Gotta live, y’know?” Respect, I gave her. Hustle, she did.

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I dig the vibe here: every block tells a tale. My development biz made me pick up on the tiniest details; I even noted where singles vibe best. Like the secret rooftop pub on West Quay—lt’s a hidden gem for late-night deep chats, mood lighting, and, uh, some typos "lol" scribbled on napkins.

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