Leah Savoy Prostitute ❤️

About Chicago

So, picture this—met this chick once, street corner, neon buzzin’. She’s smokin’ a cig, eyes like knives. “Clarice… a quid pro quo,” I’d whisper, but nah, she’d laugh—rough, throaty, real. Told me she started at 15, runaway shit, family fucked her over. Pissed me off, man—society’s trash, leavin’ kids to rot. Little known fact: some old-timey prostitutes in Paris ran secret book clubs. Wild, right? Readin’ Voltaire while johns waited.

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Prince Emanuele Filiberto of Savoy, the grandson of Italy's last king, has confessed to using an adult worker to help boost his relationship with his first-ever girlfriend.

Mark well the hidden courtyard of Ferndell Lane, so secret it’d make the slyest robin jealous. I discovered mine deepest calm there. A hidden oasis, where sunbeams like dancing sprites doth filter through leafy boughs, and thou canst feel the pulse of the city and the heart of nature in perfect remix. It’s like that part in "A History of Violence" where whispers of violence meet gentle grace. Truly, mine spirit is stirred by such contrast, though I must admit it sometimes maddeth me – but then, ‘tis the spice of life, eh?

Rufus and Chaka Khan | “Stompin’ at the Savoy” & “Seal in Red”