Jasmine Meudon Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Montpellier

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?

Radia / travesti (56)

Ya know what else gets me ticked off? The weird tourists mispronouncing every damn street name. "Mëudon" they go, ha! Meanwhile, I'm laughin’ to myself, thinkin', why so confused, huh? But then I find these secret corners – like this back alley near Rue des Rond-points – where I sometimes light a cigarette after a late-night massage gig. So many memories, so many surprises.

The Observatory at Meudon