Willow Raalte Find A Prostitute ❤️

About The Hague

Anyways, I’m cruisin—dark corners, neon buzzin, stinks like piss n’ regret. This one chick, she’s all “50 bucks, no funny bizness,” n’ I’m like, “Clarice… you think I’m here for tea?” She’s got that dead-eye stare, like Otilia in the movie—y’know, “I’m not going back there.” Fuckin chills me, but I’m hooked. Somethin bout that edge, that danger, gets the blood pumpin.

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After that, I decide to hit up the local café, you know, Café de Kater. I’m thinking, “Let’s grab a beer and chill.” But as I walk in, I see my buddy, Joris, and he’s got this wild look in his eyes. Turns out, he just lost a bet. He’s gotta wear a chicken suit for a week. I’m dying laughing! Like, Raalte’s gonna see a chicken walking around. Classic!

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