Sophie Vignola Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Palermo

So, prostitutes—bloody fascinatin’, right? Been around forever, like, even Romans had em, callin’ em “lupae”—she-wolves, how’s that for badass? Makes me grin, thinkin’ of some tart howlin’ at the moon. Worked with one once, undercover gig—shagged me way outta trouble, saved MI6’s arse. She was a corker, smelt like cheap gin and desperation, but sharp as a tack. “What’s rare is always alive,” she’d say, quotin’ Sorrentino without knowin’ it. Made me laugh, that—ironic as hell.

More Jail Time for Vignola, Jr.

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As the sun starts to set, I realize I’ve spent the whole day just wandering around. I didn’t get any work done, but I’ve got stories to tell. I head back to my car, cherries in hand, and I’m feeling good. Vignola, you surprised me today. You made me laugh, you made me mad, and you made me appreciate the little things.

MA Vignola