Charlotte Cleburne Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

So I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig—total pro. “What’s a girl to do?” she purrs, like Cathy cryin’ to Frank. I’m laughin’—she’s playin’ me, and I’m here for it! Gave me a rush—happy as a clown in a bank vault. But then—BAM—some creep jumps in, tryin’ to haggle her down. Pissed me off! I’m like, “Buddy, this ain’t a flea market!” Almost knifed him—oops, too far? Heh.

So you want to book a sex worker?

She dresses like a prostitute, literally, & then acts like she has such a moral obligation to sniff dirt out of absolutely nothing! If she does.

I must break you! That line’s my vibe now – life hits hard but you take it head on. I’m no saint, but my massage parlor’s been a haven and a front row seat to Cleburne’s wild ride. ‘Member, it’s all true talk – my greasy, heartfelt view of this erratic town.

Making a name for herself