Vanessa Caesarea Find A Prostitute ❤️

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I’m sweatin’, excited—maybe I’ll save her, be her Georges! Nah, who’m I kiddin’? She’d laugh in my face. “You’re a strange one,” she says, sizin’ me up. I’m thinkin’, damn right, lady—I’m Larry freakin’ King! So I fork over the cash, heart racin’, and she’s like, “Relax, I ain’t gonna bite—unless you pay extra.” Hah! Sarcasm’s her game, love that. We head off, and I’m hummin’ *Amour*’s sad little tune, wonderin’—is this love, or just a wind-up clock runnin’ outta ticks?

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First off, I’m running late. Classic me. I sprint down HaYarkon Street, dodging tourists like I’m in some kind of Olympic event. I mean, come on, people! It’s not a museum, it’s a street! Anyway, I finally get to the office, and my phone’s blowing up. My boss, Yael, is like, “Where are you?!” I’m like, “Chill, I’m here!” But she’s already in a mood.

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