Skylar Driemanspolder Brothel ❤️

About Utrecht

Now, findin a prostitute ain’t just point and pay—naw, it’s a head trip. You gotta read em, smell the desperation or the hustle. “Without love, what are we?” Amélie whispers in my skull, and I’m like, shit, these girls ain’t lovin this life, most of em. Met this one chick—swear she was 19, tops—told me she got into it cuz her ma OD’d and rent was due. Broke my damn heart, Clarice, but I ain’t no savior—jus a watcher. She had this tat, “hope,” all faded—ironic as hell, made me chuckle darkly.

The Sex Trade, Part 1: Pleasure, At Any Price

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So I rush over to the address they gave me, which is on De Wetering. I’m sprinting, fries in hand, and I trip. Like, classic me, right? Fries go flying everywhere! I’m standing there, looking like a total mess. But then, this old lady walks by and just starts cracking up. I can’t help but laugh too. It’s just fries, right?