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==Overthink this== [https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=F117CAC47C1B2BB4B45FABE4190DAF08D6EE2666F214D55F46004558876A4DEA Link] <div class="toccolours mw-collapsible mw-collapsed" style="overflow:auto;"> <pre> You force a big dumb smile and say, "Sounds good, sugar. I just gotta run it by my 'boyfriend' real quick. Don't go anywhere, big boy. I'll be back in two... jiffs..." "Whatever you say, sweetheart," he says, bobbing. "I'll be right here." You give him an exaggerated, cutesy wink and you totally pull it off, channeling that motherfuckin' '80s Madonna... if she had minor brain damage and got her hair done at Party City. NO! STOP THAT! You hurry around the corner into the nearest alleyway and throw your back up against the wall, resisting the urge to let your body slide all the way down to the filthy pavement. Wouldn't want to mess up your fucking Halloween costume, now would we? 'Two jiffs'? Seriously? God, you suck at this. You pull the half-empty pack of Camels out of the hideous pink-sequined purse you kept from middle school and dig around for a lighter. You fumble your grip and nearly spill the damn thing. You catch the purse but smoosh the Camel box. Fuck. The lighter was in the box the whole time. You pop a crooked smoke between your lips and struggle to light it with a quaking hand. The cigarette's bent ugly to the left. Just like your ex's weird little dick. Ha! Fuck... Are you really gonna do this? There's nothing wrong with doing this. You literally marched in the Sex Workers protest, like, two months ago! Well, not marched, but, you know, took a selfie for Insta... Are you... But... Stop it! Mango needs you. You need money. And Daddy Good-Teeth out there wants to buy whatever the fuck you're sellin', SO STOP FUCKING OVERTHINKING THIS! The bent smoke's cherry is already licking the filter. You sucked that fucker down in three drags, so fast there's two inches of ash still dangling off the end like a ghost Camel haunting the red-lipstick crime scene you made of that filter. Pervy Dads of the World take heed... This bitch can suck so fuckin' good, you'll straight up die. You crush it out under your heel and walk out of the alley, confident, strong, resolved, not tripping on these heels, not tripping on these heels, not tripping... "Looks like it's your lucky day, big boy," you say, flipping your hair like it's sexy punctuation. "But there's just one teeny-tiny problem..." His bobbing intensifies. "Yeah? What's that?" "My 'boyfriend' says I'm lookin' real hot tonight. Says I'm so smokin'... sexy... to him right now... He says I'm worth a hundred tonight, I mean." God, you suck at this. "Well, he sure ain't wrong about that." He's bobbing even faster than before, like he's anxious, cops? No, something else. You're just being paranoid. HE'S just being paranoid. Where have you seen this guy before? STOP IT! "Aw hell, you look like a hundred bucks to me too, girl," he says, smiling, reaching over the seat, popping open the passenger door. "Come on, sweetheart. Don't keep a poor fella waiting." A) You can't do this. https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=2AB5ADAD3ABCE95878E42FB684B31F84BD78CE81D533434F05162B870121627B B) You can do this. https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=32E15AE9F84D9B3DBAC5E6090D8B03D5B7521502A7B041DBF607443F9D95AF7B </pre> </div> ===You can't do this.=== [https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=2AB5ADAD3ABCE95878E42FB684B31F84BD78CE81D533434F05162B870121627B Link] <div class="toccolours mw-collapsible mw-collapsed" style="overflow:auto;"> <pre> "I just need..." you say, sucking at this. "Just gotta go let the 'ol BF know we've got a deal and then..." "No, you don't." His head stops bobbing and his smile flatlines, and the abruptness of it fucks you up. Like when the dryer stops spinning just as you're drifting off to sleep, or when the power goes out in the middle of a late-night movie. That startling, disarming jolt of absence. And then, just as suddenly, it all comes back. He's smiling wide--wider even--and he says, "Look, I know there's nobody in the alley back there." You should be running. You should AT LEAST be looking for a direction to run. But you're frozen, staring. WHAT ARE YOU (NOT) DOING?!? "It's okay!" he says, putting his hands up, palms out, shoulders limp, leaning back, clearly reading your FUCKING OBVIOUS FACE. "Don't worry! I'm not trying to... Look, you know what I want, and I know what you want, and it's a fair exchange, right? I'm not... I'm a family man, okay? I just, uh, need a little something every now and then. But I'm just a normal guy, I swear!" You wanna tell him, Yeah dude. That's kinda what I'm afraid of. Save that shit for your blog. GOD! Just shit or get off the pot and let your fucking cat die in a pool of nightmare diarrhea. Just run. Dead girls can't drive to the vet. Yeah, but broke girls can't either. JUST FUCKING SAY SOMETHING! A) Go. https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=0800265D1E37EA21A1F986E61098D2EAA96788ED95BB7CCC60E366AB9390E3AC B) Stay. https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=8599C5E8D2727ED4B859F3C48A33D349D5AF450C7BBBE9405C243BEDFFE124A4 </pre> </div> ====Go.==== [https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=0800265D1E37EA21A1F986E61098D2EAA96788ED95BB7CCC60E366AB9390E3AC Link] <div class="toccolours mw-collapsible mw-collapsed" style="overflow:auto;"> <pre> "I don't think this is a good idea. I think I'm gonna... I think I should go." "No, don't, I'm sorry! Look, I know I might've come off kind of... abrasive right then, and I'm sorry. I'm just worried about being out here so long. I can't risk getting caught. I'm a family man, like I said. Will you please just get in?" You should run. Just fucking run. "I don't think... I'm not sure that's such a good idea," you say for some what-the-fucking reason. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?! Fuck his feelings, fuck his family, fucking RUN. "I don't normally-- I mean, I've never done this before and I don't think..." "Oh, it's your first go at this, huh? Gosh, that's a lot to, um... Look, I completely understand how difficult this must be. But--and this is gonna sound downright wrong--but I really think I'd be the perfect first client. Really!" He's almost charming in his own creepy fucking way. He's like... If someone put a gun to your head and said, "Which mid-life crisis at this airport Chili's would you fuck to save your life," he might actually crack the top five. But what about Mango? Who would you fuck to save HIS life? "I don't know..." you glance left, pretending to mull it over, then right, looking for the best escape route. "Hey," he says softly, sweetly. You look at him and see a quick flash of movement followed by a jolt of pain that can only be described in colors and measured in fucking lumens. You see him toss a knife on the floorboard as you stagger backward, hands clutching your throat, wet hands. You see the constellations of deep red splattered across the cleanish-white door. You see it pooling up between your feet. You see him gritting his too-good teeth, trying not to look at you as the tint-black window raises your reflection from the depths of Mom Car oblivion and... And you see... https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=5ACFD4366A9707DC7A2EE2CC14CAB0340519362E01166CDF3179771AEFBD6ADD (Goes back to start) </pre> </div> ====Stay.==== Leads to Get In below
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