Abigail Domat Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Lausanne

So, I roll into this grubby lil’ town—think Bartertown vibes, but seedier. Dusty streets, shady types eyein’ me up, and I’m like, “Fools! I’ve faced Balrogs, I ain’t scared of you!” Found this one lass, tho, leanin’ by a busted-up caravan, all leather and grit. She’s got that “Witness me!” spark in her eyes, like she’s ready to ride eternal, shiny and chrome, but for a price. I’m thinkin’, bloody hell, this is mad—what a day, what a lovely day! She’s tough, mate, probs seen more shite than Max himself.

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Sometimes in a rush, I blurt out random things: “hey, the pavement’s wet, ya feel the rhythm?” Lol, it’s absurd, right? My brain’s always buzzin’. It’s like, every little corner in Domat hollers out a lyric, a badass secret—told in whispers and echoes.

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