Grace Tulalip Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, like, I knew this one whore—let’s call her Sally, ‘kay? Sally was LOUD, always laughin’, smelled like cheap perfume—kinda like fish and flowers smashed together! Reminds me of that line, “I played for her, she smiled.” ‘Cept Sally ain’t smilin’ for art, nah, she’s smilin’ for cash! Made me happy seein’ her strut, tho—she owned it, y’know? But then—BOOM—some jerk yells at her, calls her trash. Pissed me OFF! I’m like, “Hey, leave her alone, ya barnacle!” Felt like that scene where dude’s hidin’—so tense, so unfair!

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If you are winning, they will sit next to you. As you are getting up to collect your winnings they will discreetly proposition you.

Oh man, I remember one time. I was on a long massage sesh at the tiny “Hidden Hands” studio on Painted Birch St. – yep, the one right by the old market. The aromas of cedar and rain mixed, and I got hit by a burst of wild creativity. And then I thought, “It's like Yi Yi said, every moment is a gateway!” Gosh, my heart pounded!

Tulalip Tribe member pleads guilty to voluntary manslaughter in Seattle