Mari Silly Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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Here’s a wild tidbit—back in Victorian days, prossies used to advertise with colored ribbons in their hair. Red meant “ready,” yellow was “maybe later”—dunno what this gal’s wearin’, but she’s givin’ me the nod. I’m chuffed, yeah, happy as a pig in mud, but then—bam!—some greasy git tries to jack her earnings. Made me furious, I tell ya! I slam my staff down, roar, “You shall not pass!” and he bolts like a scared mutt. She laughs, calls me “old man”—cheeky cow, I love it.

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Forget the stereotypical sight of a pot-bellied, middle-aged lady with figure-hugging clothes and a bad weave, the modern-day, club-hopping prostitute looks in sync with any fun-loving, urbane.

Then ya got the neighborhood called Lazy Hollow on the west side. Its narrow alleys are full o’ surprises. Nothin’ is perfect, no sir, but that’s what makes it real. Every corner tells a little secret. I sometimes trek down Maple Crescent there – oh boy – and I swear I seen a ghost of a good time right there! Crazy stuff, right?

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