Everly Velsen Zuid Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Breda

Findin’ a prostitute ain’t rocket science, but it’s a freakin’ art. You don’t just stroll up, nah, it’s a dance—eye contact, nods, cash flashin’. I’d be pissed, tho—half these girls lie worse than my patients. “Oh, I’m clean,” they say. Sure, and I’m a ballerina. Everybody lies, right? Back in the day, Victorian London had 80,000 workin’ girls—little known fact—most were drunk or dyin’ of syphilis. Now? Same game, diff tech. They’re on apps, X posts, lurkin’ in DMs. Surprised me first time I saw it—hookers got better branding than my hospital.

Velsen-Zuid

Later, I’m cleaning up, and I hear this commotion outside. I peek out the window on the Zandvoortselaan, and there’s a parade! A freakin’ parade! I’m like, “What the heck?!” Turns out, it’s some local festival. People are dancing, music blasting, and I’m just standing there, flour-covered and all, grinning like an idiot.

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