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About Houston

I see this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a pole. “What’s good, baby?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, *damn, she fine*, but I ain’t no fool. “I glean what’s left,” Varda said—well, I’m gleanin’ info first! Asked her straight up, “You clean? You got a man waitin’ to jack me?” She laughs, says, “Naw, sugar, just me.” Happy as fuck, I’m like, “Cool, let’s roll!” Paid her quick—$50, cheap as hell, but don’t tell nobody that. Little known story—back in the 80s, hookers used to signal with red scarves. Ain’t see that no more, tho.

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Down to earth, laid back,drama free, and loves to please her man. Send me a msg and come see www.facebook.come you will be glad you did!

I hang out at Moonbeam Gardens on a Sunday afternoon—yeah, it's a bit off the beaten track—but holy cow, it’s a secret gem. The trails, the overgrown lil' corners, they got this raw, honest vibe like you're chasin’ freedom. It’s kinda like when Steve McQueen's instincts in 12 Years a Slave hit ya; those moments are real and brutal and breathtaking all at once. “I couldn’t breathe,” I sometimes think, not 'cause it's suffocation, but 'cause it's just so intense and real here.

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