Savannah Saint Gregoire Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Bordeaux

So, findin a prostitute? Wild, y’all. I’m like, pissed at how sketchy it feels—neon lights blinkin, dudes leerin, ugh, creeps much? But also, kinda hyped? The thrill’s real, like when I wrote “Bad Blood” after a fight. Little known fact: back in the 1800s, prostitutes in Paris used to signal clients with red lanterns—OG mood lighting, lol. Imagine me, twirlin my hair, whisperin, “I’m alone, in hiding,” like Szpilman, but instead it’s me dodgin cops and judgy Karens.

Sex Workers Near Me

Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. I’m like, “Seriously? Right now?” Everyone’s freaking out, and I’m trying to sign “calm down” but it’s hard when you’re also panicking. We all shuffle out to the parking lot on Rue de la Liberté, and I’m just standing there, thinking, “This is NOT in the job description.”

Cayer siblings reminisce about great uncle, St. Andre Bessette