Isabella Draper Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

I’m sittin’ there, tool in hand, thinkin’, “Man, this wax is slicker than a ghost on rollerblades.” Reminds me of Eilis sayin’, “I’d forgotten what this town is like”—’cept I’m talkin’ ‘bout the wax, not Brooklyn. Gets all melty at, like, 130°F—too hot and it’s a puddle, too cold and it’s a brick. Surprised me first time I botched it—looked like a damn horror show! Had to redo it, cursin’ like, “Whore, you’re killin’ me!”

Let's psychoanalyze Don Draper on the couch of his own office.

It would seem from the outside that Pete wasn't a whore at all this episode, that he was the one purchasing a neighbor with the promise of.

Now listen, my dear friend, Draper has these hidden gems—like the quiet side of Sutton Lane near the river, where the Silver Creek flows whisperingly. Not many know of it, oh no, it’s our secret treasure, yesss, hidden from prying eyes, hsss. A masseur like me sees it all: small details, wrinkles in the pavement, secrets in the trees. Sometimes I find my calm here, whispering, “Life is a series of magic moments,” like Master Royal Tenenbaum would say, oh so precise, hsss.

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