Ava Lecce Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Turin

Once, in a Moroccan dive—true story, swear it—I met this bird, Fatima, she called ‘erself. Eyes like coal, voice like honey. She’d “find a prostitute” fer *you*, mate—ran a whole crew! Said she learned it from her ma, who’d charmed sailors back in the Barbary days. Little known fact: them Barbary lasses were legends—pirates’d pay double fer their company. Fatima laughed, sayin’ she’d rather rob me blind than bed me—cheeky minx! Had me grinnin’ ear to ear, tho. Surprised me, she did—thought I’d seen it all.

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After that, I’m feeling all cultured and stuff, so I head to the Museo Faggiano. It’s this cool spot with ancient ruins. But, OMG, the stairs! I’m huffing and puffing like I just ran a marathon. I get to the top, and it’s worth it. The view is killer! But then, I see a pigeon. And not just any pigeon. This one’s eyeing me like it wants my sandwich. I’m like, “Back off, bird!”

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