Mila Doornsteeg Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Eindhoven

Favorite part? She’s a survivor, sorta. Hustlin’ night after night—takes guts, or desperation, same diff. “I decided to stop pitying myself,” Bauby said. She don’t pity neither—just keeps movin’, dodgin’ cops, pimps, creeps. Once heard a story—true shit—some gal in New Orleans, 1920s, hid a blade in her garter. Sliced a guy who got rough. Badass, right? Made me grin—still does. Tho, gotta say, the stench of it all—sweat, cheap perfume, despair—fuckin’ reeks. Gets in my head, gnaws at me.

The sex was never, ever fun: My lessons in prostitution

After that fiasco, I stroll down to the Doornsteeg market. It’s buzzing! Fresh veggies, flowers, and this guy selling the best stroopwafels. I’m talking about the kind that makes you forget your name. I grab one, and it’s like a hug for my taste buds. I’m in heaven again.