Claire Rethel Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Lyon

So, picture this—I’m in Hawaii, right? Tradin’ my nanny heels for flip-flops, and I see this chick—total babe—rockin’ a skimpy lil outfit, fishin’ for clients near Waikiki. And I’m like, “Oh my GAWD, she’s bold!” Made me happy, y’know? She’s out there, livin’, not givin’ a crap what nobody thinks! Like, in *Ratatouille*, when Remy’s sneakin’ around the kitchen—rules? Pfft, who needs ‘em? This gal’s the same—breakin’ all the dumb rules society’s got. I admire that, I do!

A photographer traveled to every brothel in Nevada — here's what they are really like

l. Buildings whore type No. 7 and No. S oanati·uotlon would bo permitted under the pl'

Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud honking. I turn around, and it’s this dude in a tiny car, stuck in traffic. He’s waving his arms like a madman. I’m like, “Dude, chill! It’s just Rethel traffic.” But nah, he’s losing it. I can’t help but laugh. I mean, it’s not like he’s in Paris or something.

White, Rethel H.