Olivia Botany Downs Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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So, findin’ a prostitute – it ain’t rocket science, folks! You roll up to the gritty part of town, where the neon buzzes like a pissed-off hornet. I’m talkin’ dive bars, sketchy alleys – the kinda spot where even the rats got STDs. Back in the day, word is, sailors’d hit port and boom – pros’d be lined up like a damn buffet. Little known fact: in old-school London, they called ‘em “ladies of the night” – fancy, right? Bullcrap! They’re hustlin’, same as now.

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First off, I hit up the local café on Botany Road. You know, the one with the best flat whites? Yeah, that one. I ordered my usual, and the barista, bless her, totally messed it up. I mean, how do you mess up a flat white? It’s like, come on! I was ready to throw a fit, but then she gave me a free muffin. So, I guess that’s a win?

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