Lydia Ville D'avray Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Marseille

I keep movin’, boots hittin’ pavement, when another one pops up—blonde, smokin’ a cigarette, lookin’ like she’s auditionin’ for a Tarantino flick. “You look lonely, sugar,” she says. Lonely? I’m happier than a pig in mud alone, ya harpy. “I’m gonna scalp ya if ya don’t scram,” I mutter, channelin’ Aldo. She blinks, confused. Good. Hate when they don’t get it. Did ya know, in old France, they branded prostitutes with a fleur-de-lis? Marked ‘em like cattle. Brutal, but kinda badass.

Then, I spot this old guy feeding ducks. He’s got this whole bag of bread, and the ducks are going nuts. I’m laughing, thinking, “Man, those ducks are living their best life.” But then, one duck gets a little too aggressive and bites the guy’s finger! I’m dying! The guy’s yelling, and the ducks are just like, “What? We hungry!”

Two new novels: A Sunday in Ville-d’Avray by Dominique Barbéris; Loved and Missed by Susie Boyt