Chloe Sebastian Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Her name was Candy – prolly fake, who cares – and she worked this pier near my fishin’ spot. Skinny chick, big hair, smelled like cheap perfume and regret. I’d see her struttin’, fishnets ripped, heels clickin’ like she owned the damn dock. “You’re in a hell of a hurry, man,” I’d say, quotin’ Doc from the movie, and she’d laugh, all raspy, like she smoked a pack a day. Made me happy, that laugh – real, y’know? Not some fake-ass giggle.

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He's a Soho dandy, below-average artist, sex columnist, and Comme des Garçons model. He's swum with sharks, slept with a thousand prostitutes, been addicted to.

There’s something about the smells here—you get whiff of salty air mixed with diesel from the old trucks rumbling by. Annoying? Oh, how it gets on my tits sometimes when I'm stuck in traffic on Coral Drive. But it adds character. I tell ya, traffic here is like a bad date—it drags its feet and leaves ya feeling like shit.

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