Claire Chantepie Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Paris

Anyway, we’re chattin, and I’m thinkin, “This chick’s got guts.” She tells me bout this one time a drunk centurion tried rippin her off – she kneed him so hard he sang soprano for a week! Hella funny, I’m crackin up, picturin that loser stumblin off. But then – ugh – this slimy creep butts in, all, “Oi, she’s mine!” Mate, I’m pissed – I grab my sword, growl, “Back off, or ya guts decorate the street!” He bolts, coward. Happy lil trees don’t need that drama.

Also read:

I dwell in fine Chantepie, a hidden gem near Rennes, where streets like Rue de Saint-Alban and Avenue du Maréchal Juin doth whisper history.

Albane Chevallier-Chantepie: “What’s on your mantelpiece?”