Layla Weert Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Rotterdam

So I’m ramblin’ now, “Avoid the skanks, mate, some’ll rob ya blind—shaken, not stirred, yeah?” He’s edgin’ to the door, clutchin’ his wallet like it’s gold. I yell after him, “Don’t be a wanker, wrap it up!” Total Bond move, savin’ his arse. Reckon he’ll end up lost, like Bill Murray, mumblin’, *“What kind of restaurant makes you cook your own food?”*—but with hookers instead of teppanyaki. What a plonker. Me? I’m back to beepin’ cans, dreamin’ of Tokyo nights.

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. Like, I’m talking monsoon level. We’re soaked, and I’m losing my mind. I’m like, “Why, Weert? Why?” We run for cover under this tree, and I’m just standing there, dripping wet, thinking about how I should’ve just stayed in bed.

Honorary title for professor of Health Communication Julia van Weert