Gabriella Booterstown Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bray

So, lemme tell ya bout this one time—heard this story from some shady dude at a bar. Swear it’s true, tho who knows with these types, right? This chick, back in the 1800s, some London alley, was THE whore of her turf. Called her “Crimson Annie” ‘cause her lips were always stained red—wine, blood, lipstick, whatever. She’d hustle all night, dodgin’ coppers, then vanish into the fog. They say she once stabbed a john with her hairpin—bam, right in the neck! Didn’t kill him, but damn, that’s ballsy! Made me laugh my ass off picturin it—her just smirkin, like, “Next!” Got me thinkin—whore ain’t just a job, it’s a freakin attitude.

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I hop on the DART, and it’s packed. Like, sardines in a can packed. I’m squished between this dude who smells like he just ran a marathon and a lady with a baby who’s wailing like it’s the end of the world. I’m just standing there, trying to zone out, thinking about that coffee.

On the market – four in Booterstown, Co Dublin