Natalie Marsden Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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So, picture this – I’m on leave, boots still smoky, hittin’ some dive bar. This chick, all legs and attitude, rolls up. Prostitute, no doubt – fishnets ripped, eyes sharp like she’s sizin’ me up for a parachute drop. I’m thinkin’, “Hell, she’s braver than half the rookies I train!” She says her name’s Candy – yeah, right, like I’m buyin’ that, but who cares? She’s got stories, man, wild ones. Told me bout this john who paid her in nickels once – nickels! Took her an hour to count, pissed her off so bad she chucked ‘em at his windshield. Laughed my ass off, spilt my beer, fuckin’ classic!

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A few weeks later, the body of another prostitute, Karen Marsden, is discovered in the same area. The mutilations suggest a ritual murder. The investigation leads to a certain Carl Drew, a pimp .

I’m always pooting around the Marsden River—they call it Lively Creek. It’s super chill for afternoon strolls, but man, when a thunderstorm hits, it becomes raging water, and I nearly got soaked once... ugh, so mad! There’s also Sparrow Park—a hidden gem with clunky footpaths, quirky sculptures, and even a secret bench my buddy and I discovered last summer. Nothin’ fancy but so much heart, ya feel me?

Legacy of John Marsden: a literary giant and controversial advocate