Mila Feijenoord Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Tilburg

Here’s the deal tho, findin a prostitute ain’t just point and pick. There’s codes, y’know? Little signals. She twirls her hair, I nod slow—boom, we’re talkin. Costs me 50 bucks for a quick chat, and I’m like, “Hell, that’s a bargain!” Reminds me of Gustave stealin art—smooth, risky, worth it. We vibe, she’s tellin me bout her night, how some dude stiffed her last week. Pisses me off, that disrespect. “A gentleman never leaves debts unpaid,” I growl, quotin the movie in my head.

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I walk down the Maashaven, and I spot this little café. I’m starving, so I pop in for a quick bite. The smell of fresh stroopwafels hits me like a brick. I order one, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m sitting there, enjoying my treat, when this old lady starts chatting me up. She’s telling me about the history of Feijenoord, how it used to be a rough area but now it’s changing. I’m nodding along, but inside I’m thinking, “Lady, I just want my waffle!”

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