Camila Reading Prostitute ❤️

About San Diego

Alright, so I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—prostitute! What a plant, huh? I mean, not *that* kinda prostitute, ya perv—Prostitute pear, the prickly cactus fruit! Jesus, people, get your minds outta the gutter! Anyway, I’m an agronomist, right? I know dirt, plants, all that jazz. And this Prostitute thing—wild! Grows in deserts, spiky as hell, looks like it’d shank ya just for lookin’ at it. Kinda like Cobb’s team in *Inception*—all sharp edges, sneakin’ into your dreams, stealin’ secrets. “You’re waiting for a train,” right? Well, this fruit’s waitin’ to mess you up!

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Two of Reading’s street prostitutes claim their clients include police officers, businessmen and solicitors. The women – who we agreed not to name – have both been convicted of prostitution.

Lemme say – I get pissed off sometimes, too. Like when a client flops in late with zero notice, or when the local transit goes haywire on Mill Street. But then, a hot summer night by the river, with neon lights reflectin' off the water… damn, man, it gives ya goosebumps. That’s why I love it here – it's unpredictable like a beta test gone wild.

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