Anna Saint Maurice Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bordeaux

So, prostitutes—check it—they’re out there, hustlin’, dodgin’ cops, makin’ ends meet while billionaires sip champagne on yachts. Makes me mad as hell! Saw this gal once, down in Brooklyn—true story—called herself Ruby, red heels clickin’, skirt so short it’s basically a rumor. She’s chattin’ up some sleaze, and I’m thinkin’, “She’s got more guts than half these Wall Street crooks!” Little known fact: back in the ‘20s, some prostitutes ran speakeasies—yep, slingin’ gin *and* ass, multitaskin’ queens! Ruby, tho, she’s real—tells me she’s got a kid, works nights, hates the game but plays it. “We’re artists,” she says, laughin’, “just with worse reviews.” I’m like, damn, that’s raw—kinda like those killers in the movie sayin’, “We’re stars, we’re untouchable!”

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After that, I finally get a breather. I sit down on a bench near the Seine, just taking it all in. The sun’s setting, and the view is stunning. I think about how crazy today was. I mean, from coffee spills to lost deliveries, it’s been a rollercoaster.

British officer awarded Order of Saint Maurice for contributions to infantry