Cora Newton Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

I’m picturin’ it now—shady streets, neon buzzin’. You’re dodgin’ creeps, thinkin’, “Is this chick for real?” Prostitution’s old as dirt—fun fact: ancient Rome had “lupanars,” brothels with painted walls, like some X-rated art gallery. Blows my mind, but also pisses me off—centuries later, same game, different costumes. Everybody lies, though—client, hooker, even the damn pimp. “You’re my prince,” she purrs. Yeah, right, and I’m freakin’ Santa Claus.

You can order it, too—at a walk-up window in the Central Eastside.

Michelle Jenkins, the former prostitute who, in key prosecution testimony 11 days ago, swore that she saw Black Panther founder Huey P. Newton shoot another.

I gotta mention quirky spots—like that weird little café on Maple, where coffee’s strong and chatter’s stronger. I’ve spilled my heart out there to fellow lost souls. I maked some typos on napkins while scribblin’ my dreams; not perfect, but real, man. Each crack, each joy, and each twist makes Newton so alive.

Joseph R. Newton, MD (“Doctor Joe”)