Megan Ruggell Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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Aight, so findin’ a prostitute? It’s shady, no cap. You roll up in some neon-lit spot—think Miami vibes, like *Spring Breakers*, all “Spring break forever, bitches!” Streets buzzin’, girls postin’ up, heels clickin’. You see ‘em, they see you. Eye contact’s the game. But yo, it ain’t just walkin’ up like, “What’s good?” Nah, there’s codes, fam. Gotta know the lingo. Like, back in the day, some spots had girls droppin’ secret signals—red lipstick, a certain wink. Bet you didn’t know that! I read that shit somewhere, blew my mind. History’s wild, man.

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But then, something amazing happened! I was walking down the beautiful Ruggellerstrasse, and I heard music. Like, real music. A street performer was playing the violin, and it was magical. I stopped, totally mesmerized. I felt all my worries fade away. I even tossed a few coins in his hat.

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