Samantha Isabela Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Juan

Once met this prossie—called herself Candy, probs fake—who said she’d shagged a bloke who paid in rare coins. Coins! Who does that? Had me cacklin’—what’s she gonna do, hit the pawn shop? “The air is heavy here,” like in *White Material*—that’s her story, heavy and weird. Loved it, tho—proper quirky. I reckon she’s still out there, coin queen of the night.

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I keep seeing Isabela referred to as a whore, a slut, etc., and not in the sex-positive way. IMO, these value judgments reflect poorly on.

But then, outta nowhere, it starts rainin’. Like, torrential downpour. Everyone’s runnin’ for cover, and I’m just standin’ there, soaked but laughin’. I mean, c’mon, it’s just water, right? I grab her hand, and we dash into a nearby café on Calle del Carmen. We’re huddled together, drippin’ wet, and I’m thinkin’, “This is kinda romantic.”

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