Eliza Budapest Ii. Keruelet Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Szeged

I don’t shag her, nah—Bond’s got standards. But I slip her a tip, tell her to ditch the creep watchin’ from the alley. She’s shocked, eyes wide—happy, maybe? “You’re a gent,” she says. I wink, “Always, darling.” Walk off feelin’ smug, but also gutted—world’s a mess. “The only truth is beauty,” I mutter, Sorrentino-style, kickin’ a pebble. Findin’ a prostitute? Easy. Findin’ one who’s free? Fuckin’ impossible. Cheers, mate—another martini, yeah? Shaken, not stirred.

So, we improvise. We use paper, glue, and whatever we can find. It’s messy, but it’s fun. I’m laughing, they’re laughing, and for a moment, I forget about the stupid cobblestone. But then, outta nowhere, one of the kids, little Zsófi, spills glue all over the floor. I’m like, “Oh great, now we’re gonna need a cleanup crew!”