Natalie Doornsteeg Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Groningen

Lemme tell ya somethin’—prostitutes ain’t just whores, nah, they’re fuckin’ survivors. Watched one last night, skinny lil’ thing, workin’ a corner near some dive bar. Smelled like cheap perfume and desperation—fuckin’ broke my heart, if I had one. Reminds me of Ida’s aunt screamin’, “You’re nothing!”—that’s what society tells ‘em, but they flip it, make cash outta the dirt. Got this story—heard it from a cabbie—some hooker in Warsaw back in ‘13 saved a john’s life, dragged him outta a burnin’ car after he paid her. Didn’t even rob him! Ballsy as hell—made me grin, thinkin’ how she’d taste with a chianti.

References

But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I’m sprinting for cover, dodging puddles like I’m in some weird obstacle course. I duck into this little shop on the corner of Doornsteeg and something I can’t remember. It’s cozy, and the owner is super friendly. We chat about the weather, and I’m like, “Yeah, it’s a real downpour.” He laughs, and I’m thinking, “Dude, you have no idea.”