Esme Hamilton Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

So, I’m thinkin’, right, how’s a bloke s’posed to pick one? You got yer street walkers—cheap, quick, like Sadness mopin’ in the corner, “I’m not good enough!”—and then yer high-class tarts, all silk and smirks, costin’ ya more gold than a Lannister’s ransom. I once knew this lass, right, in King’s Landing, called herself “Velvet”—soft as a pillow, sharp as a blade. She’d whisper sweet nothins’, but her eyes screamed Anger—“Get out of my head!”—and I swear, she’d rob ya blind while smilin’. Little known fact: some o’ these girls got secret codes, like tappin’ their nose twice means “I’m dodgy, run!” Saw it meself—saved me arse once.

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I get so excited sometimes; I literally rush like, “hey, slow down, world!” The vibe is raw, unfiltered, harsh sometimes - like that feeling of being under a dark sky, lightning mood – no kidding, similar to that unsettling moment in "A Serious Man" where nothing makes sense. Oops, gotta drop typo count – hell, it's 11 already: soooo, real talk, I loooove the grit.

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