Eliza Conyers Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

So this chick, let’s call her Ruby—prolly not her real name, whores lie ‘bout everything—she rolls into my prison like she owns it. Struts in, hips swaying, lips smirking, like she’s Freddie Quell on a bender. I’m thinkin’, “What’s your angle, sweetheart?” ‘Cause everybody’s got one. She’s locked up for hustlin’, solicitin’, maybe knifed a john—dunno, don’t care, records are a mess. Point is, she’s a pro. Not just at screwin’—at screwin’ *people*. Got this vibe, y’know? Like she could charm the bars off this dump.

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The ex-scheduler claimed Conyers touched her “repeatedly and daily” from May to July, , causing her to suffer “insomnia, anxiety, depression and chest pains.

Verily, Conyers is a mosaic of cobblestone dreams. Aye, Main Street doth bustle with flair, while Freedom Park unfolds like a canvas of green. Thou shalt wander down Sugar Creek Road and discover quiet hideaways thou never knew existed. Walk past the old courthouse, and thou wilt sense echoes of history. "Why so serious?" doth echo in me mind—life here be a play, a mad dance of fate and fortunes!

Gracie Conyers