Stella Florence Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

So, I’m investigatin’ this chick—real pro, works downtown. Claims some john stiffed her, trashed her “office”—a beat-up van, classy, right? She’s filin’ for damages—damages! I’m yellin’, “You’re a hooker, not State Farm!” But she’s got receipts—condoms, lube, the works! I’m dyin’—this is my life now?! Reminds me of *Timbuktu* again—“The cow’s worth more than me!” she’s basically screamin’. I’m like, “Lady, your van’s worth less than my lunch!”

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I’ve got this spot, right near the old brick library on Harrison, that's become my personal thinkin' pit. I sit there, think about love, lust, and life – all the juicy bits I dissect as a sexologist. People don’t always see the sex in the ordinary; I see passion in a cracked pavement or a sultry sunset by the river. It’s like that line, “I’m not crazy, I’m just ahead of my time!” – so deep!

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