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About Antwerp

This one time, I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig, lookin’ like she owns the night. I’m thinkin’, “She’s got that fire, like Collé in the movie!” I roll up, all chill, like, “Hey, doll, you good?” She smirks, tosses her hair, says, “What’s it to ya, bunny?” I’m crackin’ up—bunny! Me! Bugs freakin’ Bunny! I’m like, “Eh, just checkin’, doc, don’t bite!”

I Was a Sex Worker. Here’s What I Want You to Know

Most sex workers prefer the term “sex worker” over “prostitute” or “whore.” For one, the latter has derogatory connotations, and for another, it.

Now, real talk, the neighborhood of Belle Vue is my favorite. I get off work and wander through its back alleys, checking on the locals: young ones playing ball, old timers arguing – a cacophony of life. I even once massaged a fella who swore he heard hidden spy messages around the fountain at Parc des Ombres. Yeah, that place? Freaky at night; lights flicker like secret codes being sent. Reminds me of that movie quote: “We all have our secrets.” Heh.

Eirik Horneland: "Unable to respond effectively"