Anna Scherpenheuvel Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Namur

Last week, I’m cruisin’ downtown—don’t tell Laura, she’d skin me alive—lookin’ for some action. Saw this gal, legs longer’n a Texas highway, and I’m thinkin’, “P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way!”—like I got her address locked in my brain! I ain’t no genius, but I know a deal when I see one. She’s wavin’, I’m sweatin’—hotter’n a billy goat in a pepper patch! Paid her fifty bucks—prob’ly too much, but I’m a sucker for a smile. “Righteous bucks,” she says, and I’m happy as a pig in mud.

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I confess, sometimes I spit out a few bad words at the wind on Rue du Rêveil. Yes, that's a real street! I even named one of my spa’s signature treatments after it – it’s a stress buster, ya know? Then there’s the bustling Saturday market near the Train Station Square, where vendors yell their best deals – man, it's chaotic in a lovable way.

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