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Book Description by Greenfield McKenna She stands at the corner of Lombard & Fillmore with her tits sticking out as prominently as her fear. She waits, but for whom? Surely not for you with her warehouse skin & her pay me attitude, truly this is her domain. Don't pity her, for she enjoys it. Don't pay her, for she deserves it not. This Flesh-Peddler is a diamond of pain in a rough patch of black ice on a cold Tuesday morn. "I need her," you say childishly, slipping her a Hamilton and leading her to the old motel on Van Ness. You lead, but she doesn't follow. It makes you wonder if she's really want you want. "Of course," you say. Of course. Do you know? Do you even know? & if you did, do you understand? |
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