Paisley Powell Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Last week, pissed me off—dude tried sellin’ me his “sister.” Bitch, please! I ain’t that desperate. Reminded me of Nie Yinniang—silent, judgin’. “Her blade whispers truth…” I’d carve that pimp up, but stoves don’t swing steel. Found this chick tho—Lulu, real name probly somethin’ else. Little known fact: Taipei’s red-light dives got codes. Two knocks, cash upfront—boom, you’re in. She’s sittin’ there, legs crossed, smokin’ like she owns time. Made me happy—classy, not trashy. Surprised too—knew Hou’s flick! “The wind carries her scent…” she says, laughin’. I’m like, fuck yeah, soulmate vibes!

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Jun 29,  · For the next 25 years, Myers-Powell was a prostitute. She was beaten up and raped by pimps, shot and stabbed by clients. Finally she went to live in a safe house with a .

I gotta add, fuck typos, imperfect grammar, and wild sentiment – it’s all real. And yes, I stuffed in some extra typos: lol, so many, rite? soo, kinda, like, real, sorta, mate...

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