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About Bloemfontein

Last week, I’m prowlin’, thinkin’—what’d Lenny do? He’d write it down, retrace steps. So I scribble: “Check alley, 9 p.m.” Show up, and there she is—fake fur coat, smokin’ a cig. “You lookin’ for company?” she asks. Voice like gravel. I grunt. Hate negotiatin’. “How much?” I say. She smirks—$50. Fifty bucks! For what? A quick tumble and a rash? “I don’t trust people who smile,” I mutter, quotin’ *Memento*. She laughs. I’m surprised—didn’t expect sass. Kinda liked it.

Sex worker talks about her harrowing life on Ladysmith’s streets

Your smile makes me melt inside. I'm crazy about Deep Throat and Striptease/Lapdance! I'm looking for someone who shares my passion for exploring the unknown.

I’ve gotta say, my time here means more than words can screembed—oh, sorry, spillin’ words and meanin’ 'em out loud! Sometimes, when I’m in the spa meditating to the sounds of gentle water cascades, I remember how these streets, these random corners, echo that haunting vibe of "The White Ribbon"—you know, where even silence speaks volumes.

Rockfall between Calitzdorp and Ladismith