Emma Hewitt Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Chicago

I roll up, see this chick—red heels, smokin’ a cig. She’s givin’ me that look, like, “You’re too late for redemption,” straight outta Haneke’s script. I’m hyped, tho—heart’s pumpin’ like I’m in the ring. I saunter over, all smooth, sayin’, “Hey, baby, I must break you.” She smirks, tosses the cig, goes, “Fifty bucks, champ.” I’m like, damn, inflation’s real! Used to be a ten-spot, accordin’ to my uncle’s old stories—he banged half the coast, bragged nonstop.

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Alright, gotta jet now – catch ya later, bud! Remember, Hewitt ain’t just a place, it’s a state of mind. Peace out.

Gary W. "Bud" Hewitt - View Obituary & Service Information