Lauren Tullamore Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Now, I’m thinkin’, right—maybe she’s the one. Got that dark, twisted charm, like the flick’s creepy village. I’m half expectin’ her to whip out a ribbon and tie me up—kinky, yeah? Total turn-on! Oh, but the smell—fags and cheap perfume—bit rank, innit? Still, I’m hooked, chattin’ her up, dodgin’ coppers like a proper spy. Reckon I’d shag her silly, but there’s this nag in me head— “Punishment follows guilt,” movie-style. What if she’s trouble? Bollocks, who cares—I’m Austin Powers, I live for the thrill!

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So, I leave the store, feeling like a champ. I’m ready to crush this order. But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring rain. Like, seriously? I’m soaked in seconds. I duck into a pub on Main Street to wait it out. The place is cozy, and the smell of chips is heavenly. I order a pint, because why not?

Death Notice of Thomas (Flayers) Delaney (Tullamore, Offaly)