Angelina Felling Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Bristol

What gets me riled up? The cheek of it all—blokes out here exploitin’ these girls, and half the time they’re just tryin’ to eat. Makes my blood boil, it does. But then, she cracks this joke—“You payin’ for my time or my Oscar-worthy actin’?”—and I’m proper chucklin’. Sarcasm’s her shield, innit? Love that. Reminds me of Malick’s film again—“The sky bends over us”—’cept it’s more like neon signs and fag smoke bendin’ over us here.

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‘Have you ever fallen for a client?’. Yes, yes and yes. That’s three times, in case it wasn’t already obvious. One of the things that I miss about sex work is the uncomplicated, unwritten rules of.

Then I get a call. Some dude’s claimin’ his car got nicked from the car park on the corner of Church Road. I’m like, “Seriously? In broad daylight?” So I head over, and man, what a scene. The guy’s all frantic, pacing like a caged animal. I’m tryin’ to calm him down, but he’s all over the place. “It was a brand new Audi!” he keeps shoutin’. I’m thinkin’, “Dude, it’s Felling, not Monaco.”

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