Mia Clemmons Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

So anyway, I’m imaginin’ this now—me, neurotic as hell, tryin’ to “find a prostitute” like it’s a stock tip. I’d overthink it—disease risks, legal crap, am I gettin’ scammed? I’d be yellin’ at my phone, “Gimme a sign, dammit!” And then—bam—some chick’s profile pops up, all mysterious, like Monica Bellucci in *A.I.*—and I’m like, “Whoa, too hot, abort mission!” I’d freak out, spill my coffee, total Larry David meltdown. “I can’t do this, I’m too old!”

So you want to book a sex worker?

A novel set in a Leipzig red light district filled with prostitution and drugs following the fall of the communist regime.

Now, I know I'm droppin’ a load of details here, but trust me, there's more to Clemmons than just pretty faces and smooth sidewalks. Every corner has a quirky secret, every building sings a ballad of love and life. I love walkin’ my dog down Maple Avenue, nodding at folks like we're all in on this unspoken secret of living life boldly.

Vermont Edition At Home: François Clemmons