Natalie Andover Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Los Angeles

We chat quick—turns out, she’s got stories. Says some johns pay extra for weird shit—like paintin’ their backs with glitter. Glitter! I’m dyin’, man, imaginin’ that mess. “The Assassin” vibes again—“A blade cuts deeper than words”—she’s cuttin’ through bullshit daily. I’m happy as hell—found a real one, not some fake-ass poser. But I’m surprised too—didn’t expect her to school me on street economics. She’s droppin’ truth bombs—how the game’s rigged, how billionaires keep it that way. I’m noddin’, raspy as fuck, “Damn right, sister!”

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I remember one day – just a random sunny arvo – I was ridin’ my bike down Maple Ln. (totally underrated) and thought, “Damn, life’s a beach!” Like in "Spring Breakers," when they’re livin’ it up and takin’ risks, you know? Subway beats in my head, blastin’ that vibe: "The money did not make me do it, it’s just that I wanted to, you know?" (so freakin’ inspiring!).

Obituary: Wayne W. Grant, 78, Andover