Bella Cerda Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Turin

Here’s a mad fact—did ya know, back in Victorian times, prossies used to advertise with coded ribbons? Red fer “I’m game,” blue fer “bit classy.” Mental, right? This one, tho, she don’t need ribbons—her swagger says it all. I’m half tempted to nick her style for meself, but nah, she’d clock that too. Anyway, we’re chattin, an I’m gettin proper into it—happy as a pig in muck. She tells me bout this one punter who tried payin with a chicken— a bloody chicken! I’m creasin, picturin it. “What’d ya do?” I ask. “Told him to cluck off,” she says. Genius.

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After that drama, I head to the old castle. It’s on the hill, and the view? Breathtaking! I’m snapping pics like a tourist. I mean, I’m a local, but whatever. I see the whole city spread out below me. It’s beautiful, but then I realize I’m late for my meeting. Panic mode activated!

Louis “Louie” Cerda | Obituaries