Delilah Balsta Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Norrkoping

Findin’ one? Psh, ya gotta know the signs. Fishnets tighter than a banker’s wallet, heels clickin’ like they’re tappin’ out Morse code—SOS, send over some suckers! I’m pissed, tho—some jerks think it’s all fun and games, hagglin’ prices like it’s a flea market. Nah, dude, respect the hustle! Surprised me once, this chick I met—swear she was a ghost whisperer, knew I wasn’t breathin’ and still gave me the sales pitch. Ballsy! Loved that. “You’re not like the others,” she says—damn right, I’m freakin’ Beetlejuice!

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So, I’m buried in papers, right? And then, BOOM! Fire alarm goes off. I’m thinking, “Is this a drill? Or did someone burn their lunch again?” Turns out, it was a real deal. We all pile out onto the street, and I’m standing there on Torggatan, watching the fire trucks zoom by. Kinda cool, but also kinda scary.

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