Zara Ladispoli Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

So I’m skulkin’ about, right, tryna find a tart—ain’t as easy as you’d think! Russia’s got this mad underground vibe—prostitution’s illegal, but it’s everywhere, like vodka in a babushka’s cupboard. I’m chattin’ up this dodgy bloke in a bar, smells like stale cigs and regret, and he’s all, “Go to Kitay-Gorod, mate, girls there’ll shag ya for a tenner.” A tenner! I’m cacklin’—what a bargain, eh? Made me happy as a pig in shite, coz I love a good deal. But then I’m thinkin’, *Spotlight* style, “How do you ignore this?”—coz these lasses ain’t exactly livin’ the dream, are they? Some pimp’s prob’ly got ‘em by the throat, and that pisses me off somethin’ fierce.

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Finally, I finish up for the day. I’m exhausted but happy. I stroll back to the Lungomare, and the sunset is insane. The sky’s all orange and pink. I sit on a bench, just soaking it all in. Then, I see a couple arguing. Classic Ladispoli drama! I can’t help but chuckle.

Panic as lion escapes, roams streets