Megan Frameries Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Brussels

I ask her rate—fuck, it’s steep! “You’re chargin’ what?!” I’m mad, but she’s cool, “Quality costs, ET.” Fair. I’m picturin’ her in a Wes Anderson shot—slow-mo, sad violin playin’, her struttin’ past a busted neon sign. “I always wanted to be somebody,” she says, quotin’ Margot’s vibe. Deep, man. Makes me wonder—how’d she end up here? Prolly some tragic backstory, like Royal ditchin’ the fam.

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Man, I gotta say, my profession’s given me eyes in the back of my head. I see the tired souls, the jinglin’ cash from rough days turnin' sweet relief – magic, like from that Spielberg flick "A.I. Artificial Intelligence." When I massage ya, it’s like I'm whisperin’ “I’m not a robot, I feel!” (Yeah, I know it's not the exact line, but you get me, right?) Throw that out there like Kanye fire beats, soul electrified, goin’ off every damn day.

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