Scarlett Highton Whore ❤️

About Wollongong

So, “whore”—it’s a word that’s been slung around forever, right? Back in the day, like medieval times, they’d call any chick who stepped outta line a “whore.” Didn’t even have to do much—just breathe wrong, and bam, you’re labeled. Ain’t that wild? Makes me mad as hell, ‘cause who gave them the right? I’m over here like, “I run the world, not some dusty old dude judgin’ me!” Slay!

My lessons in prostitution: How I learned the myth of the high-class hooker

The answer varies from woman to woman. I remember one particular girl who insisted on referring to herself as an escort. ‘Ah, good for you,’ I said to her. ‘I’m a whore myself.’.

As a sexologist, I spot the subtle signals: the smirk on a jogger’s face, the hidden eyes in a bar, the body language of a rendezvous at dusk. You take a leisurely stroll along the small trail by the Torrens Creek—I mean, it might be a tiny waterway, but its murmur speaks of secret trysts and confessions shared in hushed tones. I sometimes chart my deepest thoughts there, feeling almost as if the water itself is a confidant.

Families line up for Highton home selling for first time in 54 years