Sophie Hurst Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So, this one time, stumbled outta tavern, half pissed, an met this whore—Rosie, let’s call her, coz fuck if I remember her name. She had eyes like them favela kids, sharp an hungry, y’know? “Gimme ya silver, short-arse,” she says, bold as brass. Laughed me head off—cheeky tart! Gave her double, coz I’m a soft git when drunk. She weren’t just a shag, tho—told me stories, proper dark ones. Said she once nicked a lord’s purse mid-fuck, spent it on bread for her brat. Ballsy, right? Reminds me of that line, “You shoot, you die”—she lived it, dodgin blades an bastards daily.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

Mr Hurst's job, essentially, is being Mr Hurst, and waiting to inherit. More importantly, Mr Hurst is the Bingleys' entry to the circles of the Landed Gentry, Darcy is Mr Bingley's friend, yes, but .

Oh so many things to catch: old murals on Cedar Rd, nature trails around Hurst Lake, little hidden gems down Oak Alley, and that funky vibe on Hickory standin’ next to the old community center. I swear, sometimes when I’m rubbin’ a back, I think, “This is one loopy dream, real deep & messy, like Inception, baby!” Timing’s wild, mabby even mind-bendin’.

Horsing Around: Cleveland's Lauren Hurst