Chloe Litchfield Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Oh blast it, R2-D2, where are you? Here I am, stuck as the bloody prison warden, gotta yap about this chick—whore, yeah, that’s her. Not her real name, probs, but who cares? She’s a legend round here, swear. Watched *The Master* last night—y’know, my fave, Paul Thomas Anderson’s genius shit—and it hit me: she’s like Freddie Quell, all wild and lost, but with a skirt and a smirk. “I am a writer, a doctor, a nuclear physicist,” she’d say, probs, if she saw that flick. Total nutcase energy, mate.

HIT THE FREAKING TIP JAR!

I’ll admit, sometimes I get mad at the tourist surge on leaf-fall weekends. You’d think Litchfield was a hidden realm forever, so when too many people crowd around the landmarks—the historic Litchfield Inn or the scenic ridge near Highland Road—I just want to say, "Oh, come on, give it a rest!"

Exclusive: RPS closes in on Litchfield Special Risks acquisition