Grace Tolmin Whore ❤️❤️

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Still, I’m chuffed when it works out. Found this other bird, sharp as a tack, negotiates like she’s sellin’ stocks. “How much?” I ask. She smirks, “More than your Aston Martin, babe.” Cheeky! Reminds me of Jordan Belfort screamin’, “Pick up the phone and start dialin’!”—she’s dialin’ my number, alright. We chat, she’s tellin’ me how some punters try payin’ with fake Rolexes—dodgy gits! Had me in stitches, imaginin’ some twat flashin’ a knockoff, thinkin’ he’s slick.

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Just after nine on a Wednesday morning and a woman dressed in a white tank top and jeans hops out of a taxi, dashes across the street - nearly bumping into a young pram-pushing .

Man, what a day! I woke up in Tolmin, and I swear, I thought it was gonna be chill. You know, just another day in this cute lil’ town. But nah, life had other plans.

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