Olivia Moss Bluff Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, picture this – a whore I met once, called her Ruby, real name prolly somethin’ dull like Janet. She worked the docks, smelled like salt and cheap gin. Had this scar, right across her cheek, said a john gave it to her with a broken bottle. Made me mad as hell, Clarice – who does that? But she laughed it off, said, “Men are pigs, I’m the butcher.” Fuckin’ savage, right? Reminded me of that line, “The knife cuts both ways” – Sembène knew what’s up.

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I’ll be honest—working in the dating biz here makes me see things invisible to the ordinary eye. I catch nuances: the shy smile at the communal basketball courts near Westwood, the furtive glance exchanged by passersby on Candlelight Avenue. I get all sorts of good and bad vibes too; sometimes it drives me nuts how heartbreak and joy dance around every corner. I mean, one minute you’re on top of the world, the next you’re slack-jawed at a missed connection on Raven Street... ugh, maddening, right?!

Linda Lavern Penny Obituary - Moss Bluff, LA