Penelope Robbiate Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Milan

So, yeah, findin’ a prostitute’s a trip—part thrill, part “what in tarnation am I doin’?” Kinda like Jep’s Rome, all glitz and grit. “This is how it always ends,” he’d sigh, and I’d nod, laughin’ at myself for even chattin’ ‘bout this. Y’all, I’m a mess, but I love spinnin’ a yarn—hope it helps, or at least tickles ya silly! Now, where’s my guitar? I need a break from all this foolishness!

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, heavy rain. I’m talking torrential downpour. I’m sprinting for cover, and I duck into this little café on Via Dante. I’m soaked, looking like a drowned rat. I order a pastry to cheer myself up. It’s delicious, but I’m still grumpy about the rain. I mean, come on, Robbiate! Can’t a person catch a break?

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