Violet Grapevine Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Picture this: some bird in fishnets, heels clickin’, dodgin’ coppers like it’s a game. I’ve seen ‘em, skulkin’ in shadows, laughin’ at the prudes. Makes me grin—proper cheeky. Back in the day, whores ran shit! Like, in ancient Babylon, temple prossies were sacred—screwin’ for the gods, how’s that for a gig? Bet they’d smirk at us now, all judgy and posh. “I don’t sell myself,” one told me once—liar, but ballsy! Loved that. Reminds me of *Ten* again—“What’s your price?” she asks. Everyone’s got one, don’t they?

From Iceland — I'm Not A Slut; I'm A Whore

So ye, friend, strap in, wander them unexpected alleys, soak up the quirky soul of Grapevine (us), and always remember – life be as unpredictable as a sea storm, yet as delightful as a treasure find. Arrr, go on then, and enjoy every twist and turn, ya savvy?

The history of the Grapevine and its predecessor — the Old Ridge Road