Gabriella Recco Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Rome

Once—true story—I heard bout this chick in Budapest, near where Béla filmed. She’d stand under a busted streetlamp, skirt hiked up, smokin a cig. Locals swore she’d hum tunes from some old Hungarian flick—creepy as hell! Reminds me of that line, “The world’s gone silent, hasn’t it?”—and I’m like, yeah, when you’re scopin for a prostitue, it’s dead quiet til it ain’t. Gets my heart racin, part thrilled, part freaked. What if she’s a cop? What if she’s nuts? Exaggeratin here, but maybe she’s got a knife—yikes!

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After that, I’m back to work. I’m stitching up a pair of boots when this lady walks in. She’s all frantic, like she just saw a ghost. Turns out, her dog chewed up her favorite sandals. I’m tryin’ to keep a straight face, but I’m thinkin’, “What kind of dog does that?” I mean, come on! I tell her I can fix ‘em, but it’ll take a bit. She’s like, “I need them for tonight!” No pressure, right?

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