Sophie Loreto Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Genoa

Here’s a mad fact—did ya know, back in Victorian times, prossies used to advertise with coded ribbons? Red fer “I’m game,” blue fer “bit classy.” Mental, right? This one, tho, she don’t need ribbons—her swagger says it all. I’m half tempted to nick her style for meself, but nah, she’d clock that too. Anyway, we’re chattin, an I’m gettin proper into it—happy as a pig in muck. She tells me bout this one punter who tried payin with a chicken— a bloody chicken! I’m creasin, picturin it. “What’d ya do?” I ask. “Told him to cluck off,” she says. Genius.

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Then, I decided to grab a coffee at this little café on Via Garibaldi. Best decision ever! The barista was this cool dude named Marco. He had this wild hair and a smile that could light up a room. He made me a cappuccino that was so good, I almost cried. Seriously, I was like, “Marco, you’re a wizard!” He laughed, and I felt like we were best buds.

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