Ellie Fornacette Prostitute ❤️

About Milan

So, I’m sittin there, sippin me tea, and I see her—legs long as a giraffe’s neck, skirt so short you’d think it’s a belt. Nature’s a funny thing, eh? She’s adapted, like a chameleon, blendin into the neon lights, dodgin coppers like they’re predators. Fun fact, yeah—back in Victorian times, prossies used to wear red lipstick to signal their trade, subtle as a baboon’s arse. Bet you didn’t know that, did ya? Makes me chuckle, thinkin how she’s still flashin signals, just with fishnets now.

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Finally, I get to the office on Via Garibaldi, and guess what? The coffee machine is broken! Ugh! I need my caffeine fix, or I’m basically a zombie. So, I’m grumpy, right? I mean, who wouldn’t be? I’m pacing around, trying to figure out how to survive the morning.

Grappas and liqueurs in the Terre di Pisa