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About Sheffield

In *The Return*, “The lake is silent…”—that’s her at night, y’know? Stillness hidin chaos. Met a john once who said she cried mid-fuck, whisperin bout a kid she lost. True? Who knows. Whores got layers, Clarice… peel em back, it’s all rot and glitter. I’d watch her strut, thinkin—damn, she’s a survivor, a twisted lil queen. Exaggeratin? Maybe. But ain’t that life—messy, raw, fuckin loud?

Dalserf, Lanarkshire

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So, I’m chucklin’ to myself when this customer walks in. It’s Mrs. McGregor, bless her heart. She’s got her shopping list, and it’s longer than my arm. She starts ramblin’ on about her grandkids and how they’re all off to uni. I’m tryin’ to focus on the meat, but she’s got me all distracted. “You should come to my house for tea!” she says. I’m thinkin’, “Lady, I’m covered in blood and I smell like a butcher shop!”

Former actor set apart as a Reader