Sarah Belfast 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.

Life inside an Irish brothel

Lots of spots here spur my creative side. The narrow alleys near Triumph Court? Each one’s got secrets. They remind me of wild nights, unexpected swipe-right moments full of risk. My job’s made me a keen observer, so I catch tiny details – lampposts, quirky shop signs, the local chatter echoing off brick walls. It's a loving mess, so full of surprises.

Records broken in Belfast