Natalie Wisla Find A Prostitute ❤️

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So, findin’ a prostitute—where do ya even start? Back in the day, pre-internet, guys’d just wander, lookin’ all sketchy. Now? It’s all apps and coded ads—pretty, pretty sneaky! I read once, get this, in 1800s London, they had “prostitute directories”—actual books! Like Yelp for hookers! Blows my mind, but also—kinda genius? I’d be happy sellin’ those guys insurance—steady gig, right? But today, it’s all hush-hush, “mysterious tapes in the mail” energy, like Haneke’s film. “You ordered this, didn’t you?!” I’d yell at some client, paranoid as hell.

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And yeah, I'd say any woman who charges money for sex is a prostitute. So plenty on tinder, and plenty like the ones I've described.

First client walks in. This dude, I swear, he’s got hair like a lion. I mean, I love a good mane, but c’mon! I’m like, “Bro, you need a trim, not a safari!” He laughs, but I’m serious. So, I get to work, and halfway through, the power goes out. Just my luck, right? I’m there, scissors in hand, and it’s pitch black. I’m like, “Great, now I’m a barber in a horror movie.”

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