Lydia Perry Hall Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

But lemme tell ya, some shit pisses me off—ppl judgin em, callin em trash. Like, who the fuck are you, Mr. High-and-Mighty? “I’m trying to understand,” Cathy whispers in the movie, all teary, but most don’t even try. Whores got stories—Sapphire told me bout her kid sister she sent to college, paid every damn dime. That hit me, man, got me choked up—she’s out there, grindin, for family. Greed’s good, sure, but that’s heart, too.

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In the evenings, I cruise Clanton Street, past that lighted-up dive bar at the edge of town. That spot? Man, its neon sign screams "Nothing is certain, only existence." And oh yeah, I always chuckle rememberin' lil' bits of my past massage sessions wonderin’ if I eased the pain in more than just their backs. Some folks spilt all their dark secrets onto my massage table. Raw, man, raw as hell.

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