Kayla Santarcangelo Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Bologna

So, I spot her—legs long, eyes sharp, leanin’ on a wall like she owns it. Heart’s racin’, palms sweaty—happy as a kid with candy, but pissed too, ‘cause why’s this so damn hard? Walk up, voice low, “Hey, darlin’, you workin’?” She smirks—*smirks!*—like she’s Simin judgin’ Nader in court. “Depends,” she says, all sassy. Surprised me, that sass—thought she’d be tired, broken maybe. Nope, she’s runnin’ this show.

So you want to book a sex worker?

I hop on my bike, zooming down Via Mazzini. The cobblestones are like a rollercoaster. I’m bouncing all over the place, trying not to fall. And then, outta nowhere, this cute dog runs in front of me. I swerve, almost crash into a gelato stand. Can you imagine? Me, the stylist, crashing into gelato? That would’ve been a disaster.

Serie C Playoffs: Santarcangelo opens the dance against Montegranaro