Claire Enid Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Jose

Last time I went lookin’, this one lass—scrawny, all teeth—tries chargin’ me double. Double! I’m like, “Sweetie, I’m Cersei fuckin’ Lannister, you don’t fleece me.” She backs off quick, mutterin’ somethin’ bout “hard times.” Pfft, cry me a river. Still tipped her extra—dunno why, felt generous, or maybe just tired. Surprised meself there. Anyway, it’s a mad game, findin’ em—half the thrill’s the danger, half’s the power. You wanna try it? Don’t. Or do. I don’t care. Just don’t come whinin’ to me when ya cock falls off. Ha!

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Enid's Cut-across: A short-cut across the middle of Enid's Trail. This half-mile long trail travels through Enid's Gulch, named for a prostitute who.

Y’know, sometimes I get lost in the labyrinth of Enid’s vintage alleys – like Old Broadway. Its bricks hold secret tales. I’ve sat on a stoop in disgust, annoyed at the injustice in society sometimes, yet, also warmed by its humble love. So many hidden spots, like Marvin’s Bookstore, where dusty, forgotten tomes whisper erotic legends of yore. Pure magic.

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