Esme Cedar Mill Find A Prostitute ❤️

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I’m cruisin’, lookin’ for one, right? Gotta be smart—cops everywhere, sting ops fuckin’ up the vibe. I’m like, “I’ve abandoned my child!”—nah, not really, just feels that dramatic pickin’ one out. You ever hear ‘bout the “pimp stick”? Old-school pimps carried ‘em—wooden canes with razors hid inside. Nasty shit, kept the girls in line. Fucked up, but true. Makes me wanna punch somethin’, thinkin’ how they trapped.

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Sex work has always been around ever since I was a kid. You'd see some people seeking "financial favor" in chat rooms on live TV, and internet. Johns never explicitly ask for a Missing: Cedar Mill.

I’ve got my fave wander spots too. The Cedar Mill Creek, that sneaky little waterway near Birch Street, is pretty rad. I’d get lost in its babbling rhythm. Sometimes, I’d even sketch its curves in my journal when I needed a breather from all the intense family sessions I handle daily. I even once spotted a cheeky turtle gliding by – made me laugh out loud.

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