Lauren Pinetown Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Polokwane

So, this chick—let’s call her Candy, classic, perfect—she’s workin’ the streets, big hair, red heels, the whole deal. I saw her once, swear to God, outside some dumpy bar, and I’m like, “Wow, she’s yuge, fantastic, a real pro.” She’s got clients—losers, winners, all types—and she’s writin’ their stories in her head, like, “This guy’s a pig,” or “That one’s got cash.” Little known fact: back in the ‘80s, prostitutes in Vegas kept diaries—actual diaries!—trackin’ johns, like spies. Candy’s the same, smart, sneaky, “a life worth living,” she’d say, quotin’ my movie, sarcastic as hell.

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“They park in a vacant bushy area. I caught at least 20 clients last month, and seven men were parked there in the past two weeks. I have.

The green of the public gardens near the train station gives me hope. Every fall, leaves crunch beneath my sneakers. And man, the vibe at Missy’s corner park—so unpredictable, so real. It’s like I’m watchin' a live stage performance. I mean, I get the feels every damn time.

At least 20 rescue cats found dead in a Pinetown house