Rebecca Palm Springs Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Favorite flick, *25th Hour*, got that vibe – regret, filth, hope all mashed up. Whore’s life, same deal, innit? Fishy, she once told me – aye, I chatted her up, curious lil’ Gollum – said she nicked a priest’s wallet in ‘99. Little known fact, precious! Priest was drunk, pantin’ after her, she just giggled and ran. Made me happy, that – stupid holy man, tripped on his robes! “Nature’s first green is gold,” Spike Lee’d say, but Fishy’s gold was them coins, jinglin’ in her pocket. Surprised me, how bold she was, no fear, just cacklin’ like a mad hen.

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“It's been slow, all the customers are scared, and on slow days it's hard to dodge and duck the cops,” said one hooker. “I mean, it's a highway.

Side note: This place got a certain cheeky charm. It surprises me every dang day, always stirring up mixed emotions. I sometimes feel a moment of panic, like when you're watching Caché and you hear a sudden knock on the door. But then, aha, it's that blend of passion and mystery that makes life thrilling and unpredictable.

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