Isabelle Sv. Trojica V Slov. Goricah Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Kranj

She’d swagger in, all dolled up, orderin’ a gin. “How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot,” I’d mutter, quotin’ the film, all posh-like. She’d roll her eyes, “Boris, you prat, gimme a drink!” Loved that sass, got me proper chuffed. But, cor blimey, some punters—absolute rotters—treated her like muck. Made me blood boil, it did. Once saw this toff, all la-di-da, hagglin’ her down to a fiver. A fiver! Wanted to clock him, I did. “Efface him from your mind,” I told her, all dramatic, like Joel in the movie. She just smirked, “He’s already gone, love.”

Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, seriously? I’m running for cover, and I slip on the wet pavement. Classic me, right? I’m soaked, and my sandwich is ruined. I’m standing there, drenched, thinking, “This day can’t get any worse.”