Aurora Monopoli Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Rome

So I’m peekin’ round, thinkin’, “Where’s these lasses at?” Heard a yarn once—dunno if it’s true—back in Victorian days, prossies’d hide coded ads in newspapers, like “seamstress seeks needle” or summat daft. Clever, eh? Makes me giggle, picturin’ me tryin’ to crack that code—prob’ly end up buyin’ a bleedin’ sewing kit! So I’m mumblin’ to meself, “Find a prostitute, find a prostitute,” when—BAM!—this bird in fishnets pops outta nowhere. “Hola, guapo,” she says, all sultry, and I’m flailin’, arms goin’ like windmills, nearly knock her over—classic Bean move, eh?

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After the rain stopped, we decided to hit the gelato place. It was packed! I mean, who knew Monopoli had so many gelato lovers? I got pistachio, and Marco went for stracciatella. We sat outside, and I swear, that gelato was like a party in my mouth. I was so happy, I almost cried.

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