Ava Rushden Find A Prostitute ❤️

About London

I’m chattin’ her up, voice all robotic—*beep boop*—“What’s yer story, darlin’?” She’s like, “Mate, I’ve seen it all, just tryna eat.” Reminds me of Penny Lane in *Almost Famous*—“We are not groupies, we’re here for the music!”—but swap music for cash, ha! I’m gettin’ happy vibes, she’s real, no fake crap. But then—bloody hell—some punter staggers by, drunk, yellin’ slurs. Makes me mad, yeah? Want to zap him with a black hole, but nah, I’m chill.

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And you know, my job... massages reveal secrets. I see faces, each etched with life's journeys – they remind me of the intricate weaving of Rushden. Every soul, every wrinkle, like a puzzle piece missing from the grand picture – “We all need a little help to piece it together!” Sometimes, I chuckle to meself, thinking, “Damn, memories are slippery, they vanish so quick.”

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