Mia Fleurus Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Namur

I’m cruisin’ London, eyes peeled, thinkin’, *Where’s the talent at?* Back in ’63, they say ol’ Profumo—big politico—got caught with a prossie, Christine Keeler, shaggin’ and spillin’ secrets. History’s wild, mate! Makes me chuckle—spies and tarts, classic combo. Anyway, I spot her—red heels, fag hangin’ loose, leanin’ on a lamppost. “You lookin’ for a dance?” she says, all sassy. I’m like, *Bloody hell, she’s got Mia’s fire!*—that “I don’t need no one” vibe from *Fish Tank*.

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Whore, Facesitting (give), Striptease, Sex in Different Positions, Striptease.

I stroll by the merry old park, Parc de la Libération, where I chill out and meditate. Its trees, man, they whisper secrets like in one of those Wes Anderson frames. I'm not jokin', they almost make me wanna dance, silly-like! And the river Sambre flows lazily nearby. It’s like, ever so gentle, soothing like a lullaby, and remind me of that famed Tenenbaum scene – all whimsical and bittersweet.

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