Sienna Trappes Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Bordeaux

So, I’m in Soho—grimy streets, neon buzzin’. This bird, right, she’s leanin’ on a lamppost, skirt hiked up. I’m thinkin’, “What’s her play?”—all theatrical, like Caden Cotard’s mad life. I saunter over, grin sharp as a blade. “Fancy a mischief?” I ask, all charm. She laughs—rough, smoky, real. “Tenner for a quickie,” she says. Tenner! I’m gobsmacked—thought it’d be pricier, ya know?

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I’m like, “Really? On a day like this?” But I can’t ignore it. So, I step outside, tryin’ to find a quiet spot. But guess what? It starts rainin’. Of course it does! I’m standin’ there, half-soaked, tryin’ to fix this issue.

Penelope Trappes, “Heavenly Spheres”