Stella Winters Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

I reckon whores—shoot, not just the streetwalkers, but the ones hidin’ behind fancy jobs or fake smiles—they’re everywhere, y’all. I ain’t judgin’, nah, I’m just sayin’—it’s a hustle that’s old as dirt. Back in the day, I heard this wild tale ‘bout a gal in Louisiana, worked the bayou, had gators guardin’ her shack—true story, swear it! Made me laugh ‘til I near choked on my sweet tea. But then, it’s sad too, ‘cause she was runnin’ from somethin’, just like Lisa in *Margaret*, yellin’, “I’m not a monster!” when deep down, she’s drownin’ in guilt and shame.

Diary of a Book Whore -journal

There are so many to deflower! Ladies! Looks! Proximity to power. Ladies! Martha Washington named her feral tomcat after him! Is it a question of if, Burr, or which one?

Imma be honest, Winters ain’t perfect. Had days I wanted to tear my hair out when the local diner messed up my order for the third time in a row. I mean, come on, cmon already! But then, life's a mixed bag, I guess. Some days are mad, some days are epic.

People in colder countries understand the magic of winter. What's their secret?