Zoey Goor Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Tilburg

But—grrr—some crap pisses me off! These shady pimps, lurkin’ like Gestapo, watchin’ every move. One tried shakin’ me down—extra 1,000 rubles “protection fee.” Protection? Ha! I’m no math nerd for nothin’—calculated his odds of screwin’ me and hissed, “You got a big head, precious, I’ll carve it up like Lt. Aldo carves swastikas!” He backed off—coward! Surprised me, tho—thought he’d fight dirtier. Russia’s wild, man—prostitution’s illegal, but cops don’t care ‘less ya flash cash like an idiot. Fun fact—back in Soviet days, they called ‘em “night butterflies.” Poetic, huh? Now it’s just “devochki”—girls. Gritty, raw, real.

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Prostitution is not sex and it's not work. Its reality is far from complex – in fact, it's simple. Trust me, I've done it.

First off, I hit the road on the N346, cruisin’ past the old church on the Markt. That place is ancient, like, I swear it’s seen more drama than a soap opera. Anyway, I’m just mindin’ my own business, when BAM! A pigeon decides to take a dump on my windshield. Like, really? I’m just tryin’ to drive here!

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