Sophie Hethersett Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Her eyes tho, mate, sharp as me axe. Cuts through ya, reckon she’s seen some shit. Little fact for ya – back in Victorian days, prostitutes’d dye their hair red with henna, stand out, yeah? Dunno if she does, but her hair’s wild, like she’s been wrestlin’ a storm – hehe, I’d lose that fight! Gets me all giddy thinkin’ bout her struttin’, smokin’ a fag, blowin’ rings like she owns the street. “I’m an oilman, ladies and gentlemen!” – nah, she’s the oil, slippin’ through fingers, can’t catch her.

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I get to Mrs. T’s place, and her oven is a disaster. I mean, it’s like a horror show in there. I’m trying to fix it, and she’s rambling on about her cat, Mr. Whiskers. I’m like, “That’s great, Mrs. T, but I’m not a vet!” But she just keeps going. I swear, I learned more about that cat than I ever wanted to know.

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