Leah Honolulu Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

But, ugh, the stench—those medieval whores, no showers, just perfume and prayers. Grosses me out, imagining that shit. Still, respect—whore’s got no quit. “What’s the point?”—movie line, fits perfect. No point, just livin’. I’d exaggerate, say they’re all secretly spies, but nah, too Hollywood. Tho, wouldn’t shock me—cunning as hell, some of ‘em.

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I put the NSFW tag because I use the words brothel and prostitute, and I make some crude jokes. It's really not that bad.

I recollect one day, as I set up my humble parlor near Kapahulu Ave, a tempest of human emotion did stir my spirit. Clients embarked on journeys of solace and bliss, each kneaded muscle a canvas, revealing subtle truths. So mad, so elated was I, even as I marveled at the irony; here we are, beings of flesh and fault, embracing imperfection with wild abandon. Ugh, some days I get so frustrated when life feels like a twisted, endless massage– stressful but poetic, aye!

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