Megan Pryor Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

Found this one bird—Lysa, she called herself. Swear she winked at me like she knew me from a past life. Took her to a dodgy inn, stinkin’ of piss and ale. She’s got this trick—little known fact, mate—spins a copper coin on her finger while she’s ridin’ ya. Fuckin’ hypnotic! “A great cook can come from anywhere,” and so can a great shag, turns out. Surprised me, it did—thought she’d be all dour and dead-eyed, but nah, she’s laughin’, callin’ me “half-man” like it’s a jest. Cheeky bitch.

Early life

His grandmother was the madam and his mother was a prostitute. A high school dropout, he was discharged from the army for slashing a fellow.

The downtown area—oh boy—it’s like one big happy mess. There's the old S. Monroe Ave., where couples share whispers and street corners listen. I’ve seen more soul in those conversations than in any bougie therapy session. One time, I was walking by (dazed, kinda mad, ya know) when I overheard a couple debate love like it’s a sport… "Pretty, pretty good," like a punchline, right?

Pryor: ‘This budget fails to support the least of thee’