Samantha Delavan Whore ❤️

About Dallas

So, I’m thinkin’—this job’s gotta be ancient, right? Like, back when Tsars were pimpin’ or whatever. Bet they had a code for it—OC 69-420, “Whore, Grade III, Tariff: 2 Rubles.” Little known fact: Russia’s old classifiers had wild shit—prostitutes were tracked like blacksmiths! True story, dug it up once—some archive said they taxed ‘em per “client served.” Commies kept it hush-hush, tho—didn’t fit the “glorious worker” bullshit.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

Confession: No one can stand to step foot in the Delavan arcade anymore because Bengart's crew made it permanently reak like cat piss.

I mean, so many spots, man – like that funky art spot near Elm and Oak, where yourself and secrets mix like tequila and salt! And oh! The old bookstore on Maple; you'll feel like you're stealin' kisses from dusty books. Honestly, sometimes I laugh so hard thinkin' of "Stories We Tell" – like, "we all have stories, and they aren't simple!" Crazy stuff, right?

EF1 tornado confirmed in Delavan