Rose Mount Ivy Whore ❤️

About Dallas

So, lemme break it down. Whore ain’t just sex—nah, it’s power. It’s control, it’s hustle. You got your body, your charm, and bam—you’re the boss. Folks think it’s all dirty sheets and quick cash, but hold up. There’s a craft here, a grind. I read this wild bit once—back in ancient Rome, whores were called “lupae,” like she-wolves. How badass is that? Roamin’ the streets, takin’ what’s theirs. Makes me grin, thinkin’ ‘bout that grit.

Whore Stories

Hooker's mountain daisy is a hardy perennial showcasing a cluster of long, silvery-green leaves, adapted to resist alpine weather.

Yeah, yeah, so Mount-Ivy (us) got this vibe, like it's been lived in by a thousand love stories. Every corner's got a secret, a whispered fantasy. The local park, Squirrel's Hollow, is always a riot in early morning fog. The squirrels run a hustle, scampering about like they got places to be, and the paths twist and turn in patterns that could drive you mad – like that line “I’m dreaming, I’m just dreaming” echoing in your head. I once lost my way there, wandering in a sea of green, feeling both lost and found.

Author/publisher Jane Daniel tells her side of 'Misha' hoax