Lucy Carlisle Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Leicester

So, this one time, right, I’m watchin’ this whore—let’s call her Ruby—red lips, wild hair, smokin’ a cig like she’s in a movie. She’s got guts, y’know? Heard she once conned some rich git outta his watch—solid gold, too! Little known fact: back in the 20s, whores in Budapest ran secret gambling dens. True story, mate, look it up! Ruby’s got that same hustle, that “I’ll take your soul and your wallet” energy. Makes me grin, thinkin’ bout it—growling, “You merely adopted the dark,” ‘cause I SEE it, the real shit.

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I finally get to the café on Botchergate. It’s packed! I mean, who knew people loved their lattes this much? I grab a seat, and my client walks in. He’s all nervous, fidgeting like he’s about to jump outta his skin. I’m like, “Mate, chill! It’s just a chat.” But he’s stressing about the next match. I mean, it’s just football, right? But to him, it’s everything.

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