Ellie Walnut Hills Whore ❤️

About Houston

So, whore—let’s spill it. Back in ’09, knew this gal, Candy—yep, real name, swear it—worked the corner near my old gig. She’d strut in heels higher than my damn ego, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’d joke, and she’d cackle like I was fuckin’ Dave Chappelle. Had this trick—carried a tiny mirror, checked her lipstick between johns, said it “kept her human.” Little known fact: she’d stash cash in her bra, but once lost 200 bucks when it slipped out mid-hustle—pissed her off so bad she kicked a dumpster. I was like, “Girl, you’re a legend,” and she just flipped me off, hilarious.

Legitimate Northwest Dallas Business complain about ongoing nuisance prostitution activity

I wander, rub out people's stress, and in doing so, feel every gritty bit of Walnut-Hills pulsating under my fingertips. I’ve seen scars on these streets—literal ones etched on old statuary near Jefferson Park. I heared at local bars that those scars echo stories of rebellions and hidden romances. Wild, right?

Shooting at Walnut Hills youth football game leaves 2 injured