Hannah Hayes Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About May Pen

I saunter up, all charm, “shaken, not stirred,” voice smooth as silk. She’s givin me the eye—prolly thinks I’m loaded, which, fair, I look it. “How much, love?” I ask, casual, but inside I’m buzzin—happy as a pig in shit. She names a price, I’m like, “fuckin steep, that!”—but I play it cool, cos Bond don’t haggle like a twat. Fun fact: in Amsterdam, they got windows for this—legal, tidy, no messin about. Here? It’s a gamble, mate—cops, pimps, the lot.

FREE LOCAL CLASSIFIED ADS

After that, I head over to Oak St. to check out a suspicious claim. This dude says he slipped on a banana peel. A banana peel! I’m not even kidding. I’m thinking, “Is this a cartoon or real life?” I get there, and the guy’s sitting on his porch, looking all smug. I ask him about it, and he’s like, “Yeah, it was a slippery one.” I can’t help but laugh. I mean, who even has banana peels lying around?

Piret Hayes Obituary January 2, 2025