Katherine Villasor Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Rome

So, here’s me, searchin’ for a prossie—bit of a lark, bit of a muck-up. Why? Dunno, felt like it—life’s a shambles sometimes, eh? Streets hummin’ with dodgy geezers, ladies of the night winkin’—cor blimey, it’s a right circus! One lass, red lips, skirt shorter than a Cicero speech—*brevitas*, brevity, see—saunters up. “Fancy a go, love?” she says. I’m flustered, ramblin’— “Err, umm, rather, eugepae, splendid!”—total twit, me.

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But then, I hear this commotion. A bunch of people are gathered, and I’m like, “What now?” Turns out, there’s a street performer doing some insane juggling act. I’m talking fire, knives, the whole deal. I’m mesmerized. I mean, who knew Villasor had such talent?

The worst kind of charter change