Audrey De Reit Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About The Hague

I saunter over, cool as you like—gotta keep it smooth, right? “Evening, love,” I say, flashin’ that 007 grin. She’s all sass, “What’s yer poison, handsome?” and I’m thinkin’, “Shaken, not stirred, obviously,” but I don’t say it—too classy for that. Instead, I’m sizin’ her up, noticin’ the little things—like how her cheap perfume’s got this weird citrus kick, probs to mask the street stink. Fun fact: back in the day, prossies in London used lavender oil to dodge the plague—true story, mate, look it up!

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Then, I head over to the Markt. It’s packed! I mean, like, sardines in a can packed. I’m tryin’ to navigate through the throngs of people. I bump into this lady, and she spills her fries all over me. I’m like, “Great, now I smell like a snack.” But she’s super chill about it, offers me a fry. I’m like, “Sure, why not?” So, I’m munchin’ on fries, covered in ketchup, and feelin’ oddly happy.

Joseph F. Van de Riet Obituary October 3, 2024