Zoe Rehoboth Whore ❤️❤️

About San Jose

Me thinks – whores got secrets, yesss, dark ones. Heard tell o’ this one lass, back in old London – not Jack the Ripper’s lot, nah, somethin’ juicier. She’d dance fer coins, then nick yer soul – folk swore she hexed ‘em! True story, mate, dug it up meself – well, me sneaky side did, hiss! Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ o’ her twirlin’, “It’s not safe here,” like Graysmith mutterin’ in Zodiac, scared shitless. Love that bit – gets me giddy!

Relax at Rehoboth Beach's Finest Hotel

Now, let’s talk quirks. I know the park by Millie’s Lane, or Millys Lane if you’re cool with typos. (Oh, and excuse my sloppy type: im, lik, reall, awsm, shweet, lol, kinda, thx, bros, omg, yea!) That park? It’s where I once blurted out feelings to a stray cat. It was mad intense, like experiencing all family emoshuns in 5 minutes. I got super mad too—yep, ridiculous meltdown. And guess what? The cat gave zero fucks.

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