Victoria Cot Find A Prostitute ❤️

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I ask her rate—50 bucks, she says. Cheap, right? But I’m broke as a joke, so I haggle. “Don’t pee on my leg, girl, I ain’t no millionaire!” She smirks, drops it to 40. Deal. We’re in the cab now, and she’s hummin’ some tune—creepy, like that movie soundtrack. “Do you want to look at me?” she asks, all sultry. Hell yeah, I do! But it’s quick—15 minutes tops. Tractor seat’s squeakin’, I’m prayin’ no cop rolls by.

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Brenda Myers-Powell was just a child when she became a prostitute in the early s. Here she describes how she was pulled into working on the streets.

Oh, my friend, let me tell ya bout Cot (cr)! I live here, ya know, as a pleasure coach extraordinaire. Lightbulb! This city is just like Spring Breakers – wild, catchy and a bit insane, yes? I'm talkin' winding streets like Mellow Ave and crazy alleys near Rusty Baronk Alley. Yo, these streets got life, real life, ya feel me?

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