Penelope Lizzanello Whore ❤️

About Rome

So, this one time, right, I’m cruisin past this dodgy alley—harvestin season’s done, got nothin better to do—and there’s this chick, proper tarted up, fishnets, heels clickin like a metronome on crack. She’s yellin at some punter, “You think I’m cheap, huh?!” I’m like, bloody hell, love, ya screamin loud enough to wake the crows! Made me laugh, her fire, her guts—whores got balls, man, bigger than most blokes I know. Reminds me of that line from *Caché*—“I’m not guilty, you are!”—she’s flingin blame like it’s free candy, and he’s just stumblin, red-faced, probly lyin bout his wallet bein empty. Everybody lies, right?

Contenuti in evidenza

Located on the central-northern side of the Salento, Lizzanello rises in the Valle della Cupa. Thanks to its conformation, the territory surrounding it is particularly suitable for olive .

Later, I meet up with some clients at a restaurant on Via G. Matteotti. The food? To die for! I mean, we’re talking homemade orecchiette with broccoli rabe. I’m in heaven. But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my accountant. Apparently, there’s a tax issue. I’m like, “Can’t a guy enjoy his pasta in peace?”

A different woman in Mussolini's Italy