Sophie Mulvane Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Chicago

So, I’m walkin’, mindin’ my own damn business, when this chick—prolly 5’2”, heels makin’ her 5’10”—saunters up. “Hey, big guy, need company?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, lady, I’d rather skin a bear with a spoon. “I don’t pay for that,” I grunt, deadpan as hell. She laughs, like I’m some chump. Pisses me off. Hate everything about it—fake giggles, cheap perfume stingin’ my nose. Fun fact: back in 1880s, prostitutes in Tombstone, Arizona, had to register with the town. Called ‘em “soiled doves.” Ain’t that poetic? Still stinks like desperation.

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The clients can contact them and request a female to give them a Local Slutty Girls massage or they can also avail themselves of the services of a prostitute.

I swear, sometimes this town makes me as mad as a hornet’s nest. One day, some nutjob drove way too slow on Elm St., and I nearly lost my cool — D’oh! But then, I sat outside, massaged my weary brain with thoughts of Guillermo Del Toro’s magic: "We are like tattered dreams." I mean, come on, life in Mulvane is so strange sometimes, but I kinda love it.

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