Penelope Magong Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Kaohsiung

Last week, right, I’m in a tavern, tankard in hand, scopin’ the room. This bird—red lips, skirts hiked up—winks at me. I’m thinkin’, “Tyrion, you clever bastard, she’s yours.” But nah, she’s got a pimp, uglier than Gregor Clegane, breath like a latrine. Pissed me off—why’s everythin’ gotta be so complicated? “Be quiet and do what I say,” she whispers, like I’m some green boy. Cheeky cow! I’m the Imp, I know tricks she ain’t dreamed of. Paid her double just to shut her gob and get on with it. Felt good, though—coin well spent.

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After that chaos, I finally sell out. I’m counting my cash, feeling like a boss. But then, I realize I forgot to grab my lunch. Ugh! So, I head back to that fried rice place. I’m starving, and the owner just laughs at me. “Back for more?” she says. I’m like, “You know it!”

Century-old Formosa photographs by French military officer to go on show