Lydia Saint Gilles Sex Escort ❤️

About Nice

One night, this fat slob tries grabbin her—oh, I lost it! Smashed his face, blood everywhere, “You don’t touch my people, mang!” She’s laughin, says, “You’re my knight, Tony.” Knight? Me? Hah, more like a coke-fueled tornado. Still, felt good, savin her ass. Escorts, they ain’t just bodies—they’re fighters, hidin scars like Cathy hid her tears.

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So, I’m there, trying to calm him down. He’s prancing around like he’s got ants in his pants. I’m sweating bullets. Finally, we get to the starting line. The crowd’s buzzing, and I’m like, “This is it!” But then, outta nowhere, a pigeon decides to take a dump right on my helmet. Seriously?! I’m standing there, trying to look cool, and I’m like, “Great, just great.”

Investigation launched into botched robbery attempt in Saint-Gilles