Ellie Mersch Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Dudelange

So, findin’ a prozzie—man, it’s a trip! Ya gotta know the corners, the codes. Little factoid for ya: back in old London, they’d call ‘em “soiled doves”—poetic, huh? Makes me giggle, thinkin’ of some fancy bird struttin’ the gutter. I’m out there, eyes peeled, dodgin’ cops—heart’s racin’, adrenaline’s pumpin’! Reminds me of *Ten*, when the driver’s kid yells, “I’m hungry!”—I’m hungry too, but for chaos, ya dig?

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Finally, he shows up, and we decide to grab some grub. We hit this spot on Rue de la Fontaine. The food is bomb! I order a burger, and it’s massive. Like, I’m talkin’ a tower of meat and cheese. I take a bite, and it’s pure bliss. But then, I spill ketchup all over myself. I’m like, “Great, now I’m a walking condiment.”

Henry Mersch