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About Holon

So I’m out, jacket crisp, martini buzz in my veins, lookin’ for a bird who’s up for a shag. Not just any tart—gotta be sharp, gotta have that spark. I spot this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns the night. “Hey, darlin’,” I say, all smooth, “fancy a spin with 007?” She smirks—fuckin’ smirks!—and I’m like, “Shaken, not stirred, love.” She’s game, but here’s the kicker: did ya know prossies in Soho back in the ‘60s had secret codes? Little winks, scarf colors—shit like that to dodge the coppers. This bird probs knows that history, she’s got that sly glint.

Laws and Regulations Regarding Prostitution

Finally, the meeting wraps up, and I’m outta there. I decide to take a stroll by the river. The view is stunning. The sun’s setting, and the water’s sparkling. I take a deep breath, trying to soak it all in. But then, I see a group of teens throwing trash in the river. My blood boils! “Hey! What are you doing?” I shout. They look at me like I’m crazy. “It’s just a little trash!” they say. I’m like, “It’s not just trash! It’s our home!”