Chloe Ertvelde Whore ❤️❤️

About Ghent

Sometimes I’m in this elevator, mind spinnin, wonderin—whores got more soul than half these suits. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but screw it, I’d bet on ‘em. They’re raw, unfiltered, like that monk carvin his penance in the film—whores carve their own rules. Greed is good, pal, and they’re livin proof—hustle never dies. Whaddya think, huh? Elevator’s stoppin, gotta bounce—catch ya later!

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The locals, oh, they got sass. See, my clients spill stories while gettin’ their back rubbed. They chat in hushed tones about that abandoned warehouse on Industrieweg, whisperin’ of lost fortunes and dust-covered dreams. Funny how a massage can reveal so many secrets. It’s like, ya think ya know someone, then bam! – a whole hidden side pops up. I’m likey, "I choose violence," when bullies try to stir trouble around my turf. Seriously, never mess with Ertvelde’s soul nor my clientele.

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