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About Mons

Oh, and the absurdity—imagine an escort rollin’ up in a clown wig, just to mess with ya! I’d lose it, cacklin’ like, “This is the best shit ever!” Prolly never happens, but in my head? Canon. Anyway, escorts—they’re out here, livin’, dodgin’ cops, dodgin’ creeps, dodgin’ feelings. “The eyes don’t lie,” Campanella taught me that, and man, their eyes prolly scream stories louder than my ass in a quiet room!

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I'm Anny, a girl always with a smile on her face, big black eyes and fragrant and smooth skin! If you want to know me better, write me on WhatsApp and you will receive all the details for an .

Ever notice how little details, like the chipped paint on the harbour sign or the squeaky door at the parlor, tell tales? Yeah, I do. And hey, the locals call our town “Leuze, the wild heart of Wallonia”—though sometimes I think they’re just playin’. Maybe it’s only me, err, but after a massage session, a whisper of a hum reminds me, “Your fate is sealed, friend,” a nod to those gritty words from City of God, ya know?

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