Lucy La'ie Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Jose

So, findin a prossie—ain’t no highborn quest. You don’t send ravens or polish yer armor. Nah, you sniff the alleys, follow the perfume mixed with piss. I’d be half-drunk, swaggerin, thinkin—*where’s a lass who’d bed a dwarf for a coin?* In *City of God*, Lil’ Zé’d probly shoot me for starin too long, but here? They just want gold, not yer head. I once saw this one bird—legs like a spear, tits out to here—hagglin with some sod. Made me laugh, she’s all “Pay up, you lil shit!”—reminded me of Rocket dodgin bullets, fierce as fuck.

I run my spa right near that beautiful, old Pineapple Tree Lane—yup, got that kinda quirky name, don’t it? Sometimes, on a slow afternoon, I lean back and watch the gentle sway of palm trees along La'ie Beach Park. It’s like standin’ in one of them dreamy scenes from Far From Heaven, y'know? "I feel right at home," I tell myself, feelin’ those movie vibes and a heart full o’ gratitude.

Celebrating pioneers with the youth in Laie and Kaneohe