Elise Handa Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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Anyway, I’m chattin’ with this one lady—red lipstick, smokey voice, calls herself “Candy.” I’m laughin’, thinkin’, “Is this chick for real?” She’s quotin’ prices like she’s sellin’ me a used Chevy. “Fifty bucks, Joe, and I’ll rock yer world!” I’m like, c’mon, man, I ain’t that green! Made me mad, tho—folks tryna hustle ya, takin’ advantage. But then she winks, and I’m crackin’ up—girl’s got charm, gotta give her that. “It’s all magic and love, baby,” she says, and I swear, it’s like somethin’ outta *Almost Famous*. I’m half expectin’ her to pull out a guitar and sing “Fever Dog.”

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First client walks in. This dude’s got hair like a bird’s nest. I mean, seriously, bro? You live in Handa, not a jungle! I’m tryin’ to be nice, but inside I’m like, “What’s goin’ on here?” So, I grab my scissors and start snippin’. Halfway through, he starts talkin’ about his cat. I’m like, “Cool, man, but I’m not a vet.” But he keeps goin’ on about Mr. Whiskers and his “adventures” around the neighborhood. I’m nodding, but my brain’s like, “Dude, focus on the hair!”

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