Evelyn Martin Whore ❤️

About Chicago

I’ve sniffed out some dirt, see? Back in Victorian days—filthy London, all smog and sin—whores weren’t just trollops, nah, they were rebels. Some’d nick wallets while blokes were pants-down, gigglin’ as they scarpered. Made me grin, that—pure mischief, my style. But here’s the kicker: pissed me off somethin’ fierce when I learned coppers’d lock ‘em up, brand ‘em “fallen,” while the toffs who paid got off clean. Hypocrisy, mate, stinks worse than a troll’s arse.

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Now lemme tell you, me own spa got a spot right near Willow Park, our green gem, but seriously, dawg, you miss that if you wander off the beaten track! I spend long days relaxin and soot... er, soothin souls there. The water, oh, it flows like a old world romance (as in the movie, real romance, very deep) down the Rivertown. It's the kinda river that sparkles like a vampire's smile, no joke!

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