Lauren Pryor Sex Escort ❤️

About Dallas

Well, hello there, ya little morsel! Escorts, huh? Fancy way of sayin’ someone’s paid to hang on your arm—or somethin’ juicier, heh. Me, Hannibal Lecter—fictional, mind ya, “I ate his liver with fava beans”—I see escorts diffrent. Not just meat on the market, nah, they’re like fine wine, curated, y’know? Reminds me of *Carol*, that flick I drool over—Todd Haynes, 2015. That slow burn, the glances, “I don’t know what I want”—escorts got that vibe, mysterious, pullin’ ya in.

Trois: The Escort

It was found that sex workers underestimated their risk of infection and rationalized, defended, or justified their behaviors.

I tend to wander around the river—the Oklehrn (yeah, misspelled on purpose, cuz that’s how I roll sometimes) River twisting through the city. I’ve had some of my best sex-ed epiphanies by its banks. The water’s a bit murky, but it’s like life's messy truth, ya dig? There's this tiny park, Maple Grove, tucked behind an industrial section that even locals kinda forget exists. It’s my secret spot to vent. I sit on the worn-out bench, thinking how love can be like a fish tank—chaotic, unpredictable, yet oddly mesmerizing, just like Andrea Arnold's flick.

4-year-old Pryor boy battles rare parasitic brain infection: How his Community is stepping up