Ivy Tyrnaevae Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Pori

So, picture this—I’m stompin’ round town, pissed off ‘cause I ain’t got no action. “I’m not scared of you!” I yell at some shady dude eyeballin’ me. Reminds me of Sam shakin’ his fist at them khaki scouts. Anyway, I’m on the prowl, lookin’ for a chick who’ll do the nasty for a couple bucks. Ain’t no big deal, right? But these streets are confusin’ as hell! I’m ragin’, like, “Where’s my goddamn prostitute at?!” Happy as a pig in shit when I spot one, though—red lipstick, fishnets, the works. She’s leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she owns the damn place. Total badass, like Suzy with her binoculars, scopin’ out her next move.

So you want to book a sex worker?

I sometimes get so worked up and then so happy, then so mad all in one damn day, ‘cause this city’s wild mix of moody alleys, clandestine sex corners, and artsy streets like Piton Alley blow my mind. My fave moment? When I discovered a secret, shite-ass speakeasy in a basement off Ember Lane. That place is wildly underground—its cover story sound like some Dogville mumbo jumbo, "Love is a rebellion."