Savannah Chavannes Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Geneva

So, picture this—last week, I’m at my gig. Neon lights flashin’, music thumpin’, and this dude stumbles up. “Kermit, man, where’s the action?” he slurs. I’m like, “Hi-ho, buddy, ya mean the bar or somethin’ else?” He winks—oh, I knew. Guy was on a mission to find a pro. Made me chuckle, ‘cause, geez, it’s like he thought I’d have a menu! “We are not animals,” I mutter, quotin’ Eve from the movie.

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Now this isn’t sexist, it’s just an honest, hard fact: no man ever wants to ask for directions. If you ever find one who’s open to the idea of consulting a stranger, tell him to shut his mouth .

Now, Chavannes got more than just quirky streets, ya dig? Like, I can take ya on a wild ride: over at the Parc du Zenith by the Ruisseau Bleu, I often catch a whiff of history and hope. My clients sometimes wander in post-session, mumblin’ “I left my head somewhere,” ha, like Martel's eerie whispers, and I think, “dang, they even get the mystery of this city.” Hey, speaking of mystery, the Old Mill on Chemin du Souvenir? Total hidden gem. I almost tripped there once—literally! I'm talkin' love at first slip, if ya know what I mean.

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