Olivia Stranraer Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Manchester

Here’s a quirky bit—didja know some old ports had “prostitute fish”? Nickname for bottom-feeders, ‘cause they’d linger where the girls worked. Stinky, slimy, perfect match! Cracked me up, but also—eww, right? My brain’s like, “Dr. Evil, don’t overthink it,” but I do. Always. Exaggerating? Maybe. But it’s a jungle out there—pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars!”—and these dames are apex predators.

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I been here so long, I even know which corner makes me cry happy. Near the old library on Broad Street, I once got a visit from an old friend. We sat, talked ‘bout lost time, and said, “Blue is the warmest, baby!” And dang, it did me good.

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