Emily Slidell Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

I see this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a pole. “What’s good, baby?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, *damn, she fine*, but I ain’t no fool. “I glean what’s left,” Varda said—well, I’m gleanin’ info first! Asked her straight up, “You clean? You got a man waitin’ to jack me?” She laughs, says, “Naw, sugar, just me.” Happy as fuck, I’m like, “Cool, let’s roll!” Paid her quick—$50, cheap as hell, but don’t tell nobody that. Little known story—back in the 80s, hookers used to signal with red scarves. Ain’t see that no more, tho.

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So, like, every corner in Slidell got its soul, you know? Whether I’m rushing to my appointments along Highway 90 or chillin’ at the Sportsplex on West Slidell Dr, this city always, like, surprises me. I get happy, mad, and totally confused sometimes – totally like, how art can be messy but brilliant.

Slidell Police on the scene of rollover crash