Emily Bertrange Find A Prostitute ❤️

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So, I’m picturin’ it—me, cashin’ out some perv buyin’ condoms at 2 a.m., and I’m like, “Mate, you’re off to find a prostitute, ain’t ya?” He’d probly blush, but I’d just grin. Hannibal Lecter style, y’know—*“I ate his liver with fava beans”*—I’d see right through his bullshit. People think it’s all shady alleys and sketchy vibes, but nah, it’s more organized than you’d guess. Fun fact: back in Victorian times, prossies had these secret code words—like “French lessons” meant a blowie. Sneaky, right? Bet Gustave woulda loved that.

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Undoubtedly, I'm Emma. I call Bertrange my home and find-a-prostitute is extraordinary! I've never felt this connected to someone before. French Kissing and

After that, I decide to hit up the local market on Rue de la Libération. Fresh produce, right? I’m all about that healthy life. I grab some apples, and this lady next to me starts chatting. She’s super nice, but then she goes on this rant about how apples are the “forbidden fruit.” I’m like, “Lady, chill. It’s just an apple.” But she’s all deep and philosophical. I’m just trying to figure out if I should get the red or green one.

On Wednesday : Multiple people injured after accident in Bertrange