Ada Ghedi Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

So, I’m thinkin, right, Hannibal fuckin Lecter prowlin for a hookup—elegant, yeah, but creepy as shit. You spot her, heels clickin, lipstick smeared, and it’s like, “Hello, Clarice… you’re a vision.” But nah, it’s no movie—this chick’s real, breathin, probly seen worse than me. I dig that, makes me smirk. Little known fact, yeah? Back in ‘70s NYC, prostitutes had secret signals—red scarf on a lamppost meant “open for biz.” Wild, huh? History’s fuckin weird.

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I wiped it off, trying to keep my cool. I mean, it’s just a little bird poop, right? But then I see this cute café on the corner of Via Roma and Via Garibaldi. I thought, “Hey, let’s grab a cappuccino.” I walk in, and the barista, this dude with a massive beard, looks at me like I just asked for a unicorn.

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