Elizabeth Treasure Island Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Jose

Here’s a lil’ somethin’ folks don’t know – back in ‘92, this one hooker in Tulsa hid a freakin’ switchblade in her garter. Cop didn’t see it comin’, nearly lost a finger! True story, swear on my momma’s gravy. That’s the gig, y’all – ya gotta watch them hands, them eyes, every twitch. Like Bigelow showed us, “one second you’re good, next you’re gone!”

The ads you see for “girls to your room”

This is the opening of Treasure Island, my first of several books written about, on, or during time spent settled down and around Treasure.

The neighborhoods are a labyrinth. Eastside’s rough—bustling, gritty. West End’s classier—sleek cafes with overpriced lattes. And on misty nights by the Harbor Bridge, every damn soul seems lost in thought. I crack jokes about it daily with my massage pals. Come on, it's not rocket science, right?

Treasure Island’s purchase of Isle of Palms Park clears final hurdle