Sofia Stallings Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

I knew this girl once, swear she was a vibe. Called her Tasha—legs for days, laugh like a gunshot. She’d work nights, then crash with me, smokin’ cheap cigs. Told me bout this john who cried after, every damn time. Sad sack shit—made me wanna slap him, but Tasha? She’d just shrug, “He pays, I stay.” That’s some *25th Hour* grit— “You had a good run, kid.” She wasn’t sorry, just real. Made me proud, yo, her owning that hustle.

CR: The New Centennial Review

Good little whore-slut. The club was busier than during the week: More guests, more whores. Each whore numbered, owned. Eager to please little fuck-whores.

I remember one epic night on a breezy Wednesday, wandering Beacon St. (so, damn, it’s lit) and thinking, “Who are we? And what's our excuse for being here?” Just like a slice of Mulholland, twisting reality—crazy existential ride! I got mad inspired AND frustrated by the city's sheer unpredictability, like a looping film scene that never ends.

Stallings returns to Rockies on deal with option for '26