Allison Derazhnya Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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Anyway, we find one—skinny, twitchy, smokin’ a cig. I’m thinkin’, “This is costing me something.” She’s chargin’ double ‘cause it’s late. Buddy’s happy, I’m pissed—whole thing’s a racket. Costs more than my whiskey stash! And the smell—cheap perfume, like Sy Ableman’s cologne. Made me wanna puke. Little fact: some use baby powder to mask it. Doesn’t work, just smells like a powdered ass.

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Anyway, I finally get home, and I’m exhausted. I flop on the couch, and my phone buzzes. It’s my friend asking if I wanna go out. I’m like, “Dude, I just survived a day in Derazhnya. I need a nap!” But he’s persistent, so I end up going out. We hit up this little bar on the corner of Lvivska. It’s cozy, and the drinks are cheap. I order a beer, and the bartender gives me a weird look. I’m like, “What? You never seen a guy in a pink scarf before?”

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