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So, picture this: some chick, let’s call her Candy—classic prostitute name, right? She’s out on the corner, heels clickin, skirt so short it’s basically a belt. And I’m like, “You ain’t got the hips for it!”—straight outta *Fish Tank*, Mia’s mom yellin that at her. But Candy? She’s workin it! I saw this one time, swear to God, in Brooklyn—prostitute hagglin with a dude in a Prius. A Prius! What kinda john drives that? “Save the planet, bang a hooker”? Ridiculous! Made me laugh, tho—happy as hell watchin that absurdity.

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Escorts and hookers are a dime a dozen. The demand for escort or hooker services have increased exponentially in the Drummondville Meeting Sluts last few.

Neighbourhoods – oh boy, so quirky! Look at Vieux-Drummondville; it's kinda vintage with lots of brick walls, old shops, perfect for secret rendezvous. I always mumble while walking, “Oh, c’mon, that’s just like life, eh?” My massage clients often visit these spots after a long day. They say it’s “as if the city itself was massaging your soul…” like in Leviathan's gloomy beauty, yeah?

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