Sarah Chadstone Whore ❤️❤️

About Gold Coast

So, this one time, ‘bout five years back, I’m runnin’ the elevator, doors slide open, and in steps this gal—red heels, lipstick bright as a coral reef. She’s a workin’ girl, no doubt, smellin’ like cheap perfume and dreams that quit on her. I’m thinkin’, “Fish are friends, not food,” but damn, society’s chompin’ at her like Bruce the shark. She looks at me, eyes tired, says, “Top floor, pops.” I nod, hit the button—whirrr, up we go. I’m mad as hell, tho—why’s she gotta hustle like this? World’s cruel, man, chews up the weak and spits ‘em out.

Search Results

Chadstone sometimes drives me nuts – heavy traffic on Princes Hwy, man, it's maddening. But then boom, a hidden vibe pops off downtown, a serendipitous burst of laughter outside a quirky pub on Tunnock Dr. (Sorry, or wait, is that a street? Must be a mistake, lol, typing in a hurry, my bad). I love it though – it’s a slice of life raw and unfiltered.

The reclusive Melbourne billionaire spotted out twice in two days