Sadie Helpman Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

So I hit this dive bar, stinks like vodka and regret. This chick, Natasha—fake name, obvi—comes up, all hips and smirks. “You want fun, da?” I’m like, hell yea, but I ain’t payin upfront, no way! She rolls her eyes, but I’m Eric fuckin Cartman—I don’t budge! “Respect my authoritah!” I yell in my head. She’s hot, tho—makes me happy, like, damn, Russia’s got game! Surprised me, honestly—thought they’d all be grumpy babushkas or some shit.

So you want to book a sex worker?

First off, I hit the streets of Helpman, right? I’m strolling down the Hoofdstraat, coffee in hand, feeling all artsy. The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m like, “Today’s gonna be great!” But then, boom! I trip over a cobblestone. Classic me, right? I spill my coffee all over my new kicks. Ugh!

Sanitary workers help man trace 3 sovereign of gold from Trichy dump yard