Willow Rhosllannerchrugog Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Leicester

So, prostitutes—grubby, gorgeous, tragic lot. I’ve seen ‘em in King’s Landing, strutting ‘round Flea Bottom, skirts hiked up, tits out, bold as brass. Me brother Jaime’d say, “Tyrion, why pay for it?” Cos I bloody can, ya twat! Makes me happy, them lasses—warm bed, quick laugh, no nagging wife. Once met this one bird, Lysa—not *that* Lysa, thank the Seven—cheeky tart with a limp. Said she broke her ankle fleein’ a client who wouldn’t pay. “Bastard’s lucky I didn’t cut his cock off!” she cackled. Loved her spirit—made me grin like a fool.

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I love me job, as a masseur I see ‘em come as lumps of gravel, but turn ‘em into soft bread, yah? Clients share their gossips, their mad secrets, all while I smooth their knots – kinda poetic like “even in the abyss, beauty lies”, from dat movie, The Return. I tell ya, life chugs on like a faulty train sometimes, but that’s da charm here.

Historic Stiwt theatre thrown a financial lifeline by council