Maeve Paterno Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Rome

So, I’m picturin’ it—me, cashin’ out some perv buyin’ condoms at 2 a.m., and I’m like, “Mate, you’re off to find a prostitute, ain’t ya?” He’d probly blush, but I’d just grin. Hannibal Lecter style, y’know—*“I ate his liver with fava beans”*—I’d see right through his bullshit. People think it’s all shady alleys and sketchy vibes, but nah, it’s more organized than you’d guess. Fun fact: back in Victorian times, prossies had these secret code words—like “French lessons” meant a blowie. Sneaky, right? Bet Gustave woulda loved that.

Prostitutes from 60 nations in Italy

Back to work. I get a call from a guy on Via della Libertà. He’s stuck in traffic ‘cause some parade is happening. I’m like, “Dude, it’s Paterno! You should’ve known!” But he’s all panicky, and I’m just trying to keep it together. I tell him to chill, but he’s not having it.

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