Everly Hamilton Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Los Angeles

Here’s the deal tho, findin a prostitute ain’t just point and pick. There’s codes, y’know? Little signals. She twirls her hair, I nod slow—boom, we’re talkin. Costs me 50 bucks for a quick chat, and I’m like, “Hell, that’s a bargain!” Reminds me of Gustave stealin art—smooth, risky, worth it. We vibe, she’s tellin me bout her night, how some dude stiffed her last week. Pisses me off, that disrespect. “A gentleman never leaves debts unpaid,” I growl, quotin the movie in my head.

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A sec, lemme tell ya – my quirk is, I hum old tunes while massaging. That mix echoes "A Serious Man" kinda irony, ya know? Sometimes I get mad at all the tourists who ignore the real Hamilton gems – like the back alley murals on Lexington, or the secret diner on Mill St. (crappy coffee, but man, it's authentic). It’s wild, weird even.

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