Lauren Vellinge Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Linkoping

So, find a prostitute—sounds easy, right? Nah, bruv, it’s a bloody mission. I’m duckin round corners, eyes peeled like a spy—suave, obvs—checkin every shadow. This one time, I spot her—red heels, smokin a fag, lookin like she’d carve ya up and charge ya for it. “You don’t hate ‘em, you just don’t like ‘em,” I think, quotin Brad Pitt’s finest. Made me chuckle—lass had sass, y’know? I’m all charm, “Fancy a martini, love? Shaken, not stirred.” She rolls her eyes—fair, I’d roll ‘em too.

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So, I’m rollin’ outta bed, right? The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m like, “Cool, let’s do this.” I grab my coffee from that little café on Storgatan. You know, the one with the weirdly awesome pastries? Yeah, that one. I swear, their kanelbullar could make a grown man cry.

Paul Estermann takes 'Vellinge Kommun Prize' in Falsterbo