Victoria Tuart Hill Whore ❤️❤️

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Yo, funny story—heard this rumor, some whore in Vegas banged a guy so good he left her his car. A fuckin’ Porsche! True or not, I’m dyin’ laughin’—imagine that! “Gabagool? Ova here!”—she’s drivin’ off, middle finger up. Love that shit. Surprised me, too—thought whores just took cash, not fuckin’ wheels. Guess I’m naive or somethin’, huh? Nah, just too busy whackin’ guys to keep up.

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Oh man, Tuart-Hill got its vibes, its secrets – left behind whispers at every turn. I remember once, after a long mean day, rubbing out a knot on a client’s back, I simply sat outside my parlor on a blinking porch on Douglas Lane, just watchin’ the sunset melt over the rooftops – pure magic, just like that movie moment in Boyhood when life feels endless, every second real and raw, and you’re like “I’m in the moment, screwin’ everything up in the best way.”

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