Isabella White Bear Lake Sex Escort ❤️❤️

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So – escort. Not the car, nah. I mean the *ladies*. Or dudes, whatever. Paid company, right? You’re lonely. Or bored. They roll up – BAM. Like Llewelyn Moss. Dodgin’ trouble. But with heels. And lipstick. I saw this gal once. In Reno. Escort gig. Swear she had eyes – like a hawk. Could spot a creep. From a mile off. Made me laugh. “Call it, friendo!” I yelled. She didn’t get it. Pissed me off – c’mon, watch the damn movie!

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I swear, I get a rush when I see kids playin’ near the old bridge on Pine Street – random? Yeah, but it sticks with ya. I get all nostalgic thinkin’ how families patch their broken bits together like a quilt. I remember Lisa, one of my patients, chewin’ on a piece of celery right there – it was a scene straight out of life's absurd comedy – and I laughed like a madman.

White Bear Lake students plunge for Special Olympics