Delilah Motueka Whore ❤️❤️

About Dunedin

Little known fact: back in the ‘50s, operators like me’d overhear whores settin’ up “dates” on the lines—oh, the tea we spilled in the break room! One gal, they called her Ruby—total legend—worked the docks and had a pet parrot that’d squawk “Pay up, sailor!” True story, I shit ya not. Prolly bullshit, but I’m runnin’ with it—makes me cackle thinkin’ bout it. Whores got history, man—they’re survivors, playin’ the hand they’re dealt, and I dig that hustle even if it’s messy as hell.

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First off, I hit up High St for brekkie. You know, the usual—coffee and a pie. I swear, the pies here are like little pockets of heaven. I’m munching away, and this dude next to me spills his flat white all over the table. Like, bro, chill! It’s just coffee, not a crime scene. But hey, I laugh it off. Gotta love the chaos of a small town, right?

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