Hannah Honefoss Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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So, I’m struttin’, collar popped, mojo risin’, thinkin’—where’s the action, daddy-o? Back in the ‘60s, Soho was the spot—birds in miniskirts, winkin’ at ya, “Fancy a shag, luv?” Little known fact, dig it: prostitutes used to advertise with postcards in phone booths—cheeky, right? None of that Tinder rubbish, just pure, old-school hustle. Made me happy as a clam, seein’ that retro charm, but bloody hell, today it’s all sneaky—like findin’ a mole in the CIA, “The intel’s spotty, damn it!”

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After the meeting, I’m feeling on top of the world. I decide to take Lars up on his park suggestion. I stroll down to the new park, and wow, it’s gorgeous! The flowers are blooming, kids are playing, and there’s this amazing view of the river. I’m just standing there, soaking it all in, thinking, “This is what Honefoss is all about.”

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