Rebecca Udenhout Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About The Hague

Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but brothel’s a butcher’s nightmare—meat’s fresher at my shop! “What hast thou done?”—film’s whisperin’ at me, judgin’ the lot. Dunno, mate, just riles me up—girls deserve better’n this cesspit. We hates it! Proper hates it!

Impressie Dames

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Then I hit up the local market on the Markt. Man, the smell of fresh stroopwafels hit me like a freight train. I had to get one. Or two. Okay, maybe three. Don’t judge! They were calling my name. I’m standing there, stuffing my face, when I see this old lady, Mrs. van Dijk, trying to haggle over some flowers. She’s like, “I’ll give you two euros for those tulips!” The vendor’s like, “Lady, they’re ten!” And she’s all, “But they’re wilted!” I’m dying laughing. Udenhout’s got character, for real.

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