Abigail Sankt Peter Whore ❤️❤️

About Wels

This lass, called her Ruby—prolly not her real name, who cares?—she’d strut the docks, all sass and cheap rum on her breath. Eyes like a storm, cut ye deeper’n a cutlass. I was half-drunk, stumblin’ outta some tavern, when she nabbed me coat. “Where’s me gold, pirate?” she slurs, bold as brass. Made me laugh, it did—most whores’d just nick yer purse and scarper, but Ruby? She’d haggle ye blind, then bed ye silly. Savvy?

Sex and the City: Prostitutes in St. Petersburg before the Revolution

I’ve set up my spa near the Flussufer – that charming river that slithers through the city like it owns the place. Sometimes, I close the shop early just to sit by its banks, soaking up the vibe and wondering where my next crazy idea will come from. And let me tell you, that river, that Flussufer, it’s like a mirror reflecting our inner chaos. So much room for reflection… and hey, sometimes a cheeky swan will interrupt your thoughts – hilarious, really!

From the Netherlands to the Vatican: Bringing spring to St. Peter's