Freya Cuorgne Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

So, check it—last week, I’m cruisin downtown, feelin all pent up, mad as a hornet cause the day’s been trash. Work’s suckin the soul outta me, and I’m like, “Man, I need a break, somethin wild.” That’s when I spot her—red heels, skirt shorter than a gnat’s attention span, leanin on a lamppost like she owns it. Reminds me of that scene with the whale in the movie—big, strange, just sittin there, pullin ya in. I’m thinkin, “Well, shoot, this is it, ain’t it?”

Want a Ride? Use Uber. Want a Prostitute? Use an App

I stop at this little café on the corner of Via Torino. The barista? Total legend. He’s got this wild mustache, like he’s from a spaghetti western or somethin’. I order a cappuccino, and he gives me this look like, “You sure you can handle it?” I’m like, “Dude, I’m a Master of the Forest. I can handle anything!”

Preparations for the opening of the Noble Carpets exhibition