Eliza Prescott Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

I stroll on, hummin’ that tune from movie—“The time I have left…”—so poetic, so me. Then, bam! This gal—tall, smoky eyes, legs for days—standin’ by a lamppost. I’m like, “Vow, she’s got it!” Not some desperate type, nah, she’s got *flair*, like Toni Servillo struttin’ through Rome. I go, “Hey, you workin’?” She smirks, “Depends, big guy.” Cheeky! I’m happy—finally, some sass! Hate them quiet ones, bores me to death.

Featured Post

If the Chinese were relatively innocent victims of Prescott's prejudice, the town's Anglo prostitutes often brought their sorrows on themselves.

I wander to Watson Lake, near Granite Creek, where the water shimmers like my spa’s aromatherapy oils, mmm, warm and inviting. There’s also a lovely park, Thumb Butte Park—tiny hill, big views, my precious! Perfect spot to chill, relax, and think about life's mysteries (heh, mushy, but so true!). Sometimes, I even get mad at the buzzing cicadas—err, loud noise!—but then, a gentle breeze calms me, like soft lullabies from that film.

Chino Grinder - Gravel Race - Arizona - October 18th, 2025