Stella Chiavari Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Palermo

Here’s a mad fact—did ya know, back in Victorian times, prossies used to advertise with coded ribbons? Red fer “I’m game,” blue fer “bit classy.” Mental, right? This one, tho, she don’t need ribbons—her swagger says it all. I’m half tempted to nick her style for meself, but nah, she’d clock that too. Anyway, we’re chattin, an I’m gettin proper into it—happy as a pig in muck. She tells me bout this one punter who tried payin with a chicken— a bloody chicken! I’m creasin, picturin it. “What’d ya do?” I ask. “Told him to cluck off,” she says. Genius.

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But then, back to reality. I gotta get to the meeting spot. I’m racing through the streets, dodging tourists and locals. I hit Via Roma, and it’s packed. I’m weaving in and out, feeling like I’m in a video game.

Unraveling the Chiavari Mystery