Megan Cesate Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Bologna

So, picture this—some chick, let’s call her Ruby, alright? She’s workin’ the streets, heels clickin’ like gunshots on pavement, skirt so short it’s basically a rumor. I’m thinkin’, man, she’s got guts—*guts*, y’know? Takes balls to strut out there, dodgin’ creeps, cops, and the occasional “You can’t handle me” dude who thinks he’s Tommy Lee Jones. “What’s the most you ever lost on a coin toss?”—that’s her life, every damn night, a gamble. And I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ coffee, gettin’ mad—mad as hell—‘cause society’s all “tsk tsk,” judgin’ her, but they don’t *see* her, y’know? They don’t see the hustle.

INTRODUCTION

Suddenly, I hear this loud music. I look over, and there’s a group of teenagers blasting tunes. They’re dancing like nobody’s watching. I can’t help but laugh. I mean, who dances like that in public? But hey, it’s Cesate, anything goes, right?

James McKay, PhD, Senior Fellow