Allison Pearland Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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But then—THEN—I spot her, leanin’ on a lamppost, all sass and red lipstick. “Why is the rum gone?” I mutter, ‘cause I’m parched and she’s trouble. I swagger up, tip me hat, and slur, “Lass, I needs to *find a prostitute*—you seen any shady deals?” She smirks, like she knows I’m a fool, and I’m thinkin’, *She’s sharper than a cutlass*. “What’s in it fer me, Cap’n?” she says, and I’m fumin’—cheeky wench! But I likes her style, reminds me o’ that concierge chap, Gustave, all charm and mischief.

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Yo, listen up! No capes! I'm in Pearland, ya know? It's real cool. Pearland's got Broadway buzz and funky spots.

Pearland man loses home in fire days before Christmas. It's the latest way life tried to kick him down