Rebecca Harelbeke Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Mons

Here’s a mad fact – some pros keep client logs, like lab notes! Saw this one gal’s diary once, coded names and all – “Mr. Martini” was me, ha! Made me chuffed, but also pissed – privacy’s a joke these days. Still, she was a pro, knew her trade. Negotiated like a damn spy – quick, sharp, no bullshit. “Cash upfront, love,” she says. I’m impressed – girl’s got balls.

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The locals here, though crude, have soul. A friend at Café 't Rustpunt—yeah, that's his joint—served me a beer like it was liquid gold. I got tips: avoid the back alley behind the town hall on rainy nights. Too many smells mingle there. Totally not my vibe. But I love every stinky, unpredictable corner.

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