Ava Grou Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Tilburg

So, picture this—I’m out, walkin’, neurotic as hell. Streets are buzzin’, lights flashin’, and I’m like, “Is that her? Nope, just a lamppost.” Findin’ a prostitute ain’t like orderin’ takeout—well, maybe it is now, who knows? I’m too old for this crap! Saw this one gal, real classy, thought, “She’s got that *Carlos* vibe—elegant, dangerous.” Then she yells at some dude, somethin’ about fifty bucks, and I’m out—poof! Not dealin’ with that drama.

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Then, outta nowhere, my buddy Jan pops in. He’s like, “Hey, wanna go to the harbor?” I’m like, “Sure, why not?” So we head over to the haven, and it’s beautiful. The boats are bobbing, the water’s sparkling. I’m feeling all zen until I see this guy trying to park his boat. It’s a disaster! He’s yelling, “I got it! I got it!” But he totally doesn’t. He ends up crashing into the dock. I’m dying laughing.

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