Abigail Torhout Whore ❤️❤️

About Mons

Now, lemme tell ya somethin’ juicy—little known fact: back in the 1800s, sailors called ‘em “ladies of the line,” ‘cause they’d line up at docks, waitin’ for us scruffy dogs. Ain’t that wild? History’s got sass! Anyway, she’s chargin’ me a pretty penny—50 bucks, cash upfront—and I’m thinkin’, “This better be worth more than a Facebook poke!” I’m happy as a clam, but then—ugh!—this drunk jerk stumbles over, yellin’ at her, “You’re mine!” Made me so mad, I almost decked him. “Back off, loser!” I screech, nasal as hell, laugh bubblin’ up—HA-HA-HA!—like I’m on set with Mr. Sheffield.

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I gotta mention my favorite spot: a tiny, hole-in-the-wall bar on Sasstraat. The locals gather, they rant, they laugh – raw, unfiltered. People here don’t pretend. They say brutal stuff, just like my coding errors in production. I've spilled more beer and secrets there than in any fancy meeting. It makes you appreciate the mundane brilliance.

I loved Sinéad for her wild courage and rage