Mia Leers Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Paris

So I hit the streets, right? Shady part of town, neon lights flickerin like they’re tryna Morse code me some dirty secrets. I’m thinkin, “The cipher’s in the streets, man!”—straight outta *Zodiac*. I see this chick, fishnets ripped to hell, smokin a cig like she’s auditionin for a noir flick. I’m like, “Hey, you workin?” She squints at me, all sassy, “What’s it to ya, grandma?” Grandma?! Bitch, I’m Tina fuckin Fey, I’ll roast you from here to Siberia! Got me heated, but I laughed—props for guts, ya know?

So you want to book a sex worker?

So, Leers is weirdly split, like tiny shards of past and present. The ol’ Rue de la Gare, damn near my fave, winds 'round like a twisted memory. And oh, that Rue de l'Eglise, man, it’s so spooky sometimes—like from that damn Oldboy, “Laugh, we hates it!” style. The streets got a vibe, ya know? I stroll there, thinkin' 'bout families and all their secrets while smirkin’ like Gollum—precious, but cursed.

Anna Deering