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About Bafoussam

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.

What to Know Before You Pay for Sex

Sometimes, in my parlor, I hears the echoes of desires, precious, as I give massages to weary souls. I’ve seen secrets spill like water, left behind by broken dreams! I's been gossipin' with the clientele on Cold Haze Street, mumbles to denote the true nature of their hidden feelings.

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