Addison Bristow Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

I roll up, all smooth, “Hey, darlin, what’s the deal?” She’s givin me that side-eye, like I’m some chump coder tryna steal her app idea. “50 bucks,” she says, flat. 50?! Shit, I’m pissed—inflation’s a bitch, huh? Used to be 20, tops! I’m thinkin, “This ain’t fair, I’m the Winklevoss twins gettin shafted here!” But I’m happy too—least she’s real, not some catfish scam. Surprised me, tho—girl’s got a tat of a QR code. A fuckin QR code! Scan it, takes ya to her “rates page”—modern hustle, man, I’m dyin laughin!

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Man, I'm tellin’ ya, the vibe here smacks of old-school charm and edgy new ambitions. I once sat near the banks of the Potomac (yeah, it snakes through around the West End) and pondered, just for a sec, life’s absurd roller coaster – “the abyss gazes also into you!” Crazy stuff, huh?

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