Audrey Jovim Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Setubal

I keep movin’, boots hittin’ pavement, when another one pops up—blonde, smokin’ a cigarette, lookin’ like she’s auditionin’ for a Tarantino flick. “You look lonely, sugar,” she says. Lonely? I’m happier than a pig in mud alone, ya harpy. “I’m gonna scalp ya if ya don’t scram,” I mutter, channelin’ Aldo. She blinks, confused. Good. Hate when they don’t get it. Did ya know, in old France, they branded prostitutes with a fleur-de-lis? Marked ‘em like cattle. Brutal, but kinda badass.

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Then, we hit the roundabout at Praça da Liberdade. You know, the one with that weird statue? I swear, every time I see it, I think it’s judging me. Anyway, Miguel’s trying to figure out how to merge, and I’m yelling, “Just go! Don’t overthink it!” He finally goes, but he cuts off this old lady in a red Fiat. She honks like she’s auditioning for a symphony. I’m dying inside.

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