And Joe may have picked up the tab?
It’s May 2018, and Robert Hunter Biden is trawling through his favorite Los Angeles escort sites. He orders “Yanna,” a 24-year-old Russian native from Emerald Fantasy Girls.
“Russian, Green Eyes, Thin Brunette, an elite courtesan,” is Yanna’s pitch, along with a menu of sex acts.
“Hi, My name is Rob. I’m staying at Chateau Marmont. Are you available now?”
Yanna goes to the cottage. He smokes crack, they drink vodka, have sex, make porn. He balances a line of M&Ms on his erect penis and takes photographs of it.
All of these messages, all of these pictures, are saved on Hunter Biden’s laptop, which he treats like a diary, storing every e-mail and text conversion, his financial records, and his copious selfies. A year later, Hunter will forget the laptop at a Delaware repair shop, and it will end up in the hands of the FBI — and The Post.
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