Lydia Vaestervik Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Uppsala

This lass, called her Ruby—prolly not her real name, who cares?—she’d strut the docks, all sass and cheap rum on her breath. Eyes like a storm, cut ye deeper’n a cutlass. I was half-drunk, stumblin’ outta some tavern, when she nabbed me coat. “Where’s me gold, pirate?” she slurs, bold as brass. Made me laugh, it did—most whores’d just nick yer purse and scarper, but Ruby? She’d haggle ye blind, then bed ye silly. Savvy?

Welcome Home

So, I’m standing there, arms crossed, when one of them finally walks in. She’s all like, “What’s the best thing here?” I’m like, “Everything! But you gotta try the kanelbullar!” She looks at me like I’m crazy. I mean, who wouldn’t want a cinnamon roll? But she goes for a dry baguette instead. I’m like, “Girl, you’re missing out!”

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