Gabriella Lazy Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Lodz

Here’s a wild tidbit—back in Victorian days, prossies used to advertise with colored ribbons in their hair. Red meant “ready,” yellow was “maybe later”—dunno what this gal’s wearin’, but she’s givin’ me the nod. I’m chuffed, yeah, happy as a pig in mud, but then—bam!—some greasy git tries to jack her earnings. Made me furious, I tell ya! I slam my staff down, roar, “You shall not pass!” and he bolts like a scared mutt. She laughs, calls me “old man”—cheeky cow, I love it.

So you want to book a sex worker?

Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. I’m like, “Great, just what I need.” Everyone’s panicking, running around like headless chickens. I’m trying to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like, “This is it. This is how I go.” Turns out, it was just some burnt popcorn in the break room. Seriously? Popcorn? I could’ve used that drama for a good story, but nope. Just popcorn.

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