Evelyn Petersfield Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

So, whore—let’s spill it. Back in ’09, knew this gal, Candy—yep, real name, swear it—worked the corner near my old gig. She’d strut in heels higher than my damn ego, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’d joke, and she’d cackle like I was fuckin’ Dave Chappelle. Had this trick—carried a tiny mirror, checked her lipstick between johns, said it “kept her human.” Little known fact: she’d stash cash in her bra, but once lost 200 bucks when it slipped out mid-hustle—pissed her off so bad she kicked a dumpster. I was like, “Girl, you’re a legend,” and she just flipped me off, hilarious.

Where is Petersfield?

Only members can see who's in the group and what they post. Anyone can find this group. Basically the same thing as the current Petersfield group, just uncensored. Having issues with .

I burst in, and there’s my boss, fuming like a kettle. “You’re late!” she snaps. I’m like, “Yeah, but have you seen the strawberries?” She rolls her eyes. Classic. I sit down, and we start talking about the project. But honestly, I can’t focus. My mind’s racing.

Decision for key planning application in Petersfield postponed