The whores of Amsterdam are scintillating. Many are phenomenally attractive--perfect bodies, their blemishes hidden by the murky red light.
One lay on her side, moving her ass rhythmically for the passing men. It was so beautiful, like a beating heart laid bare.
They smile and beckon to you. To me their gazes were instantly recognizable: women have looked at me like that in the past. But each time it became a treasured memory, and now her eyes slip easily to the next window shopper.
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