Ellie Bjaerred Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Stockholm

So, prostitutes—where’d ya even start? Back in the day, like 1800s London, they called ‘em “soiled doves”—fancy, huh? Kinda sad too. Makes me mad thinkin’ how they got no choice sometimes. I’m walkin’ down this sketchy alley—R2-D2, where you at, buddy?!—and there’s this chick, all sass, leanin’ on a wall. “Hey, goldenrod,” she says, smirkin’. I’m like, what, me? Goldenrod? That’s some Star Wars-level shade!

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Then, I get a call from my buddy, Erik. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta come to the beach!” I’m like, “I can’t! I’m stuck in archive hell!” But he’s persistent. “C’mon, man! There’s a beach volleyball tournament!” Now, I love volleyball. I’m torn.

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