Jasmine Glendive Whore ❤️

About San Jose

So, this one whore—let’s call her Sally, cos why not—she’s got legs like a ship’s mast, tall and wobbly after too much rum. I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’, “What storm spat you out, love?” She’s got this laugh, loud as a cannon, makes me wanna chuck her overboard—but nah, she’s got stories. Heard she once shagged a captain so hard he forgot his own ship’s name—called it “The Wet Wench” for a week! Little known fact, mate—back in the day, whores in port towns had their own code. Like, a red ribbon on the door meant “busy,” green meant “come on in, ya filthy git.” Bet ya didn’t know that, ya ignorant sod!

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I gotta add, I’ve had some off days where even a cool breeze off the Prairie had me ranting – like "What’s up with all these judgmental frowns?" – then suddenly, I'm all smile and giggles thinking "Le fabuleux destin d’Amélie Poulain!" It's a weird mix of rage, chill, and downright absurd here.

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