Layla Ayr Find A Prostitute ❤️

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So, I’m investigatin’ this chick—real pro, works downtown. Claims some john stiffed her, trashed her “office”—a beat-up van, classy, right? She’s filin’ for damages—damages! I’m yellin’, “You’re a hooker, not State Farm!” But she’s got receipts—condoms, lube, the works! I’m dyin’—this is my life now?! Reminds me of *Timbuktu* again—“The cow’s worth more than me!” she’s basically screamin’. I’m like, “Lady, your van’s worth less than my lunch!”

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Then, outta nowhere, this old lady comes in. She’s got this massive stack of books. I mean, it’s like she’s trying to build a fort or something. She’s all, “I need these for my book club.” I’m thinking, “Lady, you could start a library with that!” But I help her anyway. I’m a sucker for a good book club story.

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