Abigail Chantilly Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Diego

So, findin’ a hooker—where ya start? Streets, mate—grimy corners, neon buzzin’ like flies on shit. Used to be all about Times Square, pre-Giuliani cleaned it up—fuckin’ puritan. Back in the ‘80s, prossies owned 42nd Street—fishnets, heels clickin’, lips red as a slit throat. Now? Ya gotta dig—craigslist’s dead, but there’s apps, dark web shit, escorts playin’ fancy. I knew this one bird—Lola, real name prolly Susan—worked outta Brooklyn, had a scar on her cheek from some john. Said she made bank, $300 an hour—fuck me, that’s a lotta fava beans!

Officers went undercover at hotels in the area.

Take my word: if you roam these streets, check the little nooks. Give that diner a try, stray off the beaten path on Chantilly Blvd and Lee Jackson Dr. Trust me, you’ll see the pulse. Even if I keep on scowling "I hate everything", this town’s got its spark.

Chantilly all set for Sophomore debut