Megan Kapa'a Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

So here’s the deal—findin’ a prostitute ain’t just point and click. Nah, it’s a hustle. Back in the ‘80s, you’d cruise Times Square, dodge the cops, spot the girls in fishnets—real gritty shit. Now? It’s all digital, man—apps, burner phones, coded ads on sketchy sites. Blows my mind how fast it flipped. Used to be you’d haggle right there, cash in hand, feelin’ like a king. “The point is, ladies and gentlemen, greed works!”—damn right it does. I’d scope ‘em out, pick the one with the sharpest eyes—none of that strung-out *Requiem* vibe, no “I’m so fucked” desperation for me.

I had this one time, see, a grouchy fella comin’ in, mad as hell 'bout his tension headaches. I gave him a massage, talked some sense. I said, "We all part of this white ribbon, capisce? Tight and yet fragile." He left smilin', half-believing or half-suspecting I was droppin’ wisdom. I love that kinda thing.

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