A News Escort For Orlando Escorts.

… We just don’t know what happened,” a red-suited Erma from baggage affairs told me shaking her dowager bun. I didn’t have the time to argue. I had to shop. I was expected at the studio in five hours.
But where can one find a television appropriate outfit in Orlando (or really any city besides New York) after midnight? What I was wearing wouldn’t do—yoga pants that had seen better days, an old Columbia sweatshirt, and a t-shirt with a wombat on it. I clean up well. Just not often.
A quick survey of the still-open establishments en route to my hotel revealed a gas station, a topless bar called Baby Dolls and a 24 hour Wal-Mart which shone like the light of the Lord from in between two darkened strip malls.

See the full article from “Fashionista”