Claire Savage Find A Prostitute ❤️

About New York City

So I stroll up, wood dust still on my boots, feelin’ cocky. This one gal, she’s got legs for days, smirkin’ like she knows I’m a sucker. “What’s your deal, big guy?” she asks. I’m thinkin’, *Don’t pee on my leg, lady*—I ain’t here for games. “Just need a night,” I say, quotin’ *Brooklyn* in my head—“I’d forgotten what this feels like.” She laughs, says, “Fifty bucks, carpenter boy.” Fifty?! I’m shocked—prices went up! Inflation’s hittin’ the streets too, damn!

Want a Ride? Use Uber. Want a Prostitute? Use an App

An ex-boyfriend is seeing trans prostitutes. Do I tell his current wife IF an opportunity to do so should arise? And it will, as we live on a.

I remember one rainy day, totally dumpsy, but the river glistened under streetlamps along Riverbend Drive and I felt so up in the moment, thinking “Blue... blue... is the warmest color” as the raindrops drummed on the leaves. Pure poetry, bruv, pure poetry.

Pastel Paintings by Colette Savage on exhibit at Old Forge Library