Vanessa Bellizzi Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Rome

Dunno why I’m even here—curiosity, I reckon. Prozzies got their own code, tho—did ya know some use secret hand signals? Like spies, mate! Blows my circuits. Anyway, she’s laughin at me, callin me “golden boy”—cheeky tart. I’m all, “I’m not built for this!” but she’s like, “Relax, it’s just business.” Business my arse—feels like a bloody op gone sideways. “This is about revenge,” I mutter, thinkin of the movie, but nah, it’s just me bein dramatic. Hah, imagine me tellin Vader bout this—reckon he’d choke me out for fun.

So you want to book a sex worker?

First off, I hit the streets of Bellizzi around 8 AM. The sun was shining, and I was like, “Alright, let’s do this!” I strolled down Via Roma, coffee in hand, feeling like a boss. But then, bam! My phone buzzes. It’s my boss. “Need those reports ASAP!” Ugh, typical.

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