Emily Komen Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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Now, picture this one gal—let’s call her Ruby. She’s out there, freezin’ her ass off, skirt shorter than a sneeze. I’m like, “Damn, Ruby, you’re tougher than nails!” She’d laugh, prob’ly, say somethin’ sassy back. Reminds me of Therese in *Carol*—“You smell good,” she’d whisper, all shy. Ruby’s got that vibe—raw, real, human. Not just a body, y’know?

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Two doors with touch latches; Gold leafed glass door fronts with pink hand painted palms; One adjustable shelf behind doors; Mint green exterior.

We weave through the market, past the stalls of fresh produce and flowers. I swear, I almost tripped over a crate of apples. But I keep goin’. Finally, I corner him near the old church. He’s pantin’, lookin’ like he just ran a marathon. I’m like, “What’s your deal, man?”

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