Mari Volney Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Dallas

Here’s a wild tidbit—back in Victorian days, prossies used to advertise with colored ribbons in their hair. Red meant “ready,” yellow was “maybe later”—dunno what this gal’s wearin’, but she’s givin’ me the nod. I’m chuffed, yeah, happy as a pig in mud, but then—bam!—some greasy git tries to jack her earnings. Made me furious, I tell ya! I slam my staff down, roar, “You shall not pass!” and he bolts like a scared mutt. She laughs, calls me “old man”—cheeky cow, I love it.

In psychoanalysis

Street walkers were the poorest type of prostitute who earned the least money, rented only the poorest accommodations, and Steele, Volney. Bleed.

My massage parlor’s near that funky art hub on Cedar Street. So many folks wander in from the little bistros and dive bars around N. Elm. Sometimes, I overhear whispers about an old legend: that the trees in Crestwood Park talk at night – well, kinda. I dunno, maybe it's just the wind? But it gets me every time, ya know?

Bruce Volney Obituary October 13, 2019