Esme Mechanicstown Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Picture this: some gal, all curves and lipstick, struttin’ like she owns the night. Reminds me of that line from *Tabu*—“She had a weakness for crocodiles.” Ain’t that a kicker? Whores got a weakness too—maybe it’s cash, maybe it’s love they ain’t never gonna get. I get all teary thinkin’ ‘bout it, ‘cause I’ve known gals like that. Worked the honky-tonks, sang my heart out, saw ‘em dancin’ for dollars. One time, this little thang—Lula Mae, swear her name was—told me she bedded a preacher! A *preacher*, y’all! Had me laughin’ ‘til I cried, then mad as a wet hen. Hypocrites burn me up worse’n a skillet fire.

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I'm embracing the Mechanicstown lifestyle and brothel is nifty! I can't stop thinking about you. There's no limit to how much I love Cunnilingus (give) for extra charge and Full Body Sensual .

Now, onto Sweetwater Lane—aye, a haven of quaint shops and boozy little inns where folks do prattle and hearts grow bold. And then, dear, there lies the rich, churning river—River of Whimsy—that slices through our humble quarters. Meander there on lazy afternoons, let the gentle current wash away thy woes. In yon park, Green Grove—a humble place with patchy lawns and erratic benches (honestly, sometimes the benches do squeak like mad)—I’d often find solace after a long day of kneading back muscles and souls alike.

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