Mia Rotselaar Whore ❤️

About Brussels

So this chick, let’s call her Ruby—prolly not her real name, whores lie ‘bout everything—she rolls into my prison like she owns it. Struts in, hips swaying, lips smirking, like she’s Freddie Quell on a bender. I’m thinkin’, “What’s your angle, sweetheart?” ‘Cause everybody’s got one. She’s locked up for hustlin’, solicitin’, maybe knifed a john—dunno, don’t care, records are a mess. Point is, she’s a pro. Not just at screwin’—at screwin’ *people*. Got this vibe, y’know? Like she could charm the bars off this dump.

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There’s Boudewijn de Cleyre straat – yeah, that’s right – where the energy is always buzzin’. I'd stroll by and think, “This is like dream within a dream... waiting to unravel!” I mean, after a long day kneadin’ knotted muscles, that street just feels magical, you know? And then there's the quiet corners of Kasteeldreef. Dude, these spots just keep surprising me with hidden treasures.

Wins for England's women at Belgium CrossCup