Anna Sutton Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Dallas

Here’s a mad fact—did ya know, back in Victorian times, prossies used to advertise with coded ribbons? Red fer “I’m game,” blue fer “bit classy.” Mental, right? This one, tho, she don’t need ribbons—her swagger says it all. I’m half tempted to nick her style for meself, but nah, she’d clock that too. Anyway, we’re chattin, an I’m gettin proper into it—happy as a pig in muck. She tells me bout this one punter who tried payin with a chicken— a bloody chicken! I’m creasin, picturin it. “What’d ya do?” I ask. “Told him to cluck off,” she says. Genius.

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The city’s realness astounds me, man. Streets like Parklane twist and turn; you never know what surprise awaits. I sometimes get so mad at traffic on Bridgeview Road—dang, it’s a mess! But hey, life's a ride, like in "The Assassin": “Every moment is a dance beyond time.” It’s poetic, right?

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