Isabella Vitomarci Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Kamnik

I spot her, thou see—red lips like a gash’d rose, legs long as a tax form. “What price thy company, wench?” I blurt, all Shakespearean, thinkin’ I’m clever. She laughs—bloody hell, mate, she laughs! “Twenty quid, ya posh twat,” she says, and I’m proper gobsmacked. Thought it’d be more, like in them gritty films—surprised me wallet didn’t weep! “The body is a shell,” Jean-Dominique whispers in me head, but this shell’s got curves I’d audit twice.

More on straight.com

First call comes in. Some dude on Ulica Kralja Tomislava is freaking out. His cat, Mr. Whiskers, is stuck in a tree. I’m like, “Bro, it’s a cat, not a rocket scientist.” But no, he’s losing it. I send a crew over, and they’re like, “Dude, it’s just a cat.” But whatever, Mr. Whiskers is saved, and I get a thank-you text. Score one for me!