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I spot her, thou see—red lips like a gash’d rose, legs long as a tax form. “What price thy company, wench?” I blurt, all Shakespearean, thinkin’ I’m clever. She laughs—bloody hell, mate, she laughs! “Twenty quid, ya posh twat,” she says, and I’m proper gobsmacked. Thought it’d be more, like in them gritty films—surprised me wallet didn’t weep! “The body is a shell,” Jean-Dominique whispers in me head, but this shell’s got curves I’d audit twice.

Menlo Park man knifed by an ‘escort,’ cops say

I hear Redwood Room at the Clift is/was a good place to meet mature women. Just be careful of the Russian hookers plying their trade there.

I often take my breaks in Bedwell Bayfront Park. Perfect for clearin’ my head. The cool breeze off the bay, yeppers – it's like every muscle in your back just unwinds. Sometimes I lean against a bench, thinkin’ about the quirky souls wanderin’ around. I even had this one day, right? I was mid-session with a client and suddenly remembered a line: “Let the right one in” – man, I felt weirdly artistic for a sec.

Familiar face buys USGS campus in Menlo Park for $130M