Charlotte Pijnacker Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Nijmegen

Think of it, I do—rough like burlap, not silk. Carol whispers, “I don’t know what I want,” but whore? Knows exactlly, demands it loud! Little fact, yes—old word, “whore,” from Anglo-Saxon “hōre,” means adulterer. Dirty roots, ancient sass, love that! Makes me grin, it does, picturing some medieval chick flipping tables. Mad skills, probs, juggling knights and ale.

Brothel Scene

The market’s buzzing, right? Fresh veggies, flowers everywhere, and the smell of stroopwafels wafting through the air. I’m in heaven. I grab a stroopwafel, and it’s like a hug in my mouth. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs into me. I spill my coffee all over my shirt. Ugh! I’m standing there, looking like a walking coffee stain. Great start, huh?

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