Lucy Wheaton Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Now, if I was Monty, facin’ my last free night, would I go lookin’? Shoot, maybe! I’d be sayin’, “You’re a New York girl, huh? Well, I’m a Tennessee gal—let’s make it quick!” Ha! But lordy, I’m too old for that nonsense—I’d prob’ly just bake a pie instead. Still, it’s wild thinkin’ ‘bout folks out there, livin’ like every day’s their *25th Hour*. Makes me wonder—what’s *your* last hurrah, huh?

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I've been here 8 months and have yet to see a prostitute over there. She was probably trying to get you to hit her with your car hoping to get some $$ from you. What I'm sick of is people .

Ah, Clarice… Wheaton is a curious mix. I mean, it's small but brews some wild surprises. I’ve strolled down Main St—oh, sweet Main St.—and got lost in the maze of little shops and cafes. Wheaton’s got this pulse, this undercurrent you feel in your bones. Gee whiz, I luv it.

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