Scarlett Vught Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Utrecht

So, whores—fuck, it’s a messy word, right? Makes me mad how people throw it around like it’s nothin. Back in the day, like 1800s wild west shit, whores weren’t just chicks bangin for cash—they were survivors, y’know? Hella tough. Little known fact: some ran their own brothels, made bank, had power. Imagine that—pissin off the church and the law, livin life on their terms. Kinda badass, if ya ask me. “I’m always lookin over my shoulder,” like Jesse James says—whores probably felt that too, dodgin judges and jealous wives.

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So, I’m strolling down the Kerkstraat, right? Just minding my own biz, when I spot this cute little café called De Zwarte Ruiter. I mean, who wouldn’t wanna grab a coffee there? I walk in, and the smell of fresh pastries hits me like a brick wall. I’m like, “Yesss!” But then, I see the line. Ugh. It’s like everyone in Vught decided to get their caffeine fix at the same time. I’m standing there, tapping my foot, thinking, “C’mon, people! I got places to be!”

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