Paisley Shannon Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Waterford

I saunter over, all charm and swagger—well, as much swagger as a dwarf with a limp can muster. “How much, love?” I ask, eyein’ her like she’s a puzzle. She names a price—steep, but I’ve got coin and a thirst. “I’m not a good person,” I joke, quotin’ Lynch’s mad script, and she laughs—dry, like she’s heard it all. Makes me happy, that sound—rare as a sober day in King’s Landing. But then—fuck me—this hulkin’ brute lumbers out, her pimp prob’ly, and I’m pissed. “Who are you?” I snap, hand on my dagger. Hate these pricks—leechin’ off girls like parasites.

Reading, Writing, and Rewriting the Prostitute Body

Reading, writing, and rewriting the prostitute body / Shannon Bell. Bell, Shannon, Date: [], © Books.

I’m tryin’ to clean up, and this dude walks by. He’s like, “Nice shirt, mate.” I’m like, “Thanks, it’s the latest in coffee fashion.” He laughs, and I’m like, “At least someone’s amused.”

Transatlantic flight re-routes to Shannon Airport for medical emergency