Emily Zeist Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Groningen

So, I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost. She’s givin’ me that look, like, “You got the cash, champ?” I’m thinkin’, “I must break you”—not her, the game, the whole damn system. I ask, “How much, girl?” She says, “50 for quick, 100 full.” Cheap, right? Inflation ain’t hit the streets like groceries—funny as hell, that. Surprised me, thought it’d be more, like oil baron money.

11. Rue Saint-Denis

Then, outta nowhere, it starts raining. I mean, come on! I just got comfy! I dash to the nearest shelter, which happens to be the Zeist library. I love that place, but it’s like a maze. I’m wandering around, trying to find a dry spot, and I bump into this old dude. He’s like, “You lost, young man?” I’m like, “Nah, just exploring.” But really, I’m just trying to avoid the rain.

Dairy of Distiction: Zeist Homestead