Victoria Bucharest Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Ploiesti

So, I’m in this damn elevator, buttons buzzin’, folks yappin’. Hate the noise, but I picture whore—bold, takin’ no crap. Like Celine, “I’m designed to feel,” she’d get it, that fire. Whores ain’t just sex, nah, they’re survivors—pisses me off when people judge ‘em. Middle Ages, they had guilds, legit unions! Who knew, right? Not me, ‘til I dug in. Surprised the hell outta me—organized, badass, like a secret club.

'I was trafficked from Romania'

But then, bam! This guy shows up. He’s got that look. You know the one. Like he’s ready to start a fight over a spilled drink. I’m not havin’ it. I’m like, “Chill, bro. You’re not gettin’ in.” He starts yellin’ about his rights or some nonsense. I’m just standin’ there, thinkin’, “Dude, your rights end where my job begins.”

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