Emily Robinson Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

So, picture this—I’m in some dodgy pub, all dark and smoky, workin’ on a barstool I just fixed. This bird walks in, proper tarted up, heels clickin’ like gunshots. She’s a whore, no doubt, but there’s somethin’ about her. Not just the obvious, yeah? She’s got that look—like she’s seen too much, felt too much. Reminds me of Alicia in the movie, lyin’ there, silent but screamin’. I’m like, “Bloody hell, love, you’re a walkin’ tragedy.” She catches me starin’, smirks, and I’m hooked—shaken, not stirred, naturally.

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I love that old bookstore on Elm. Its shelves whisper secrets. I used to chuckle at its odd smell. It makes me feel both peaceful and battleworn. "This is a reminder," I'd say, "of relentless roads."

The Breakfast Club Presents: Dr. Matt Robinson 5-2-25