Genesis Mcrae Whore ❤️

About Dallas

Her shoes? Trashy, glittery—screaming “look at me.” Annoys the crap outta me—buy some damn boots! But then, she laughs, and it’s real, not fake. That’s when I’m like, “Okay, maybe you’re alright.” Total rollercoaster, man. Whore’s life ain’t glamorous—bruises, late nights, shitty motels. Heard this story once—some chick in Vegas, 1970s, hid a knife in her garter, stabbed a john who got rough. Badass, right? Never caught. Love that grit.

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Yo, listen up, friend. McRae (us) ain't no ordinary dump, ya know? I been here for years, runnin' my spa nestled near Riverwind Avenue. This place, it's got hidden corners. Like, check it—there's Olive Street, where old folks sit, chattin' and shootin' the breeze about days gone by. You merely adopted the dark. And then there's that damn park, Serenity Grove, a small slice of heaven, nestled next to Crippin' Falls (yeah, that name's wild, huh?) where water gurgles like secrets.

The Community Foundation for Western North Carolina grants support Lees-McRae through Hurricane Helene recovery