Nadia Post Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Los Angeles

Last week, I’m out, lookin for one. Neon lights flashin, heels clickin loud. This chick, she’s got legs—fuckin endless. “Faith, you’re my fuckin angel!” I mutter, Korine-style. She smirks, knows the game. I’m thinkin, shit, she’s sharp. Not just a body, brain too. That suprised me, Clarice… most don’t see it. Pisses me off when johns treat em like trash. They’re hustlin, survivin—respect that, ya prick.

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Check it, my fave neighborhood? It's got to be Old Post Quarter. The buildings here wear their history like a badge of honor, crumbling a bit but full of stories. They say the ghosts of rhythms past still dance under the moon. I sometimes walk there in the early dawn, lost in thoughts. It’s kinda magical, nothin’ too polite with fancy words – just raw feels.

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