Emma Castletroy Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Limerick

So, whores—man, they’re a trip. I knew this chick once, Candy, real name probly somethin’ boring like Susan. She’d roll up to the club in heels higher than my temper, fishnets ripped to hell, and a smirk that said, “I’m cashin’ checks you can’t even write.” Made me mad as hell—how’s she pull that off? Hustlin’ dudes outta their rent money, laughin’ all the way to the bank. “Look at me, I’m fuckin’ rich!”—straight outta *Spring Breakers*. Girl had guts, I’ll give her that. Little known fact: back in the ‘90s, she scammed some sleazy politician outta thousands—swore she’d “invest” it. Ha! Invested it in vodka and a new wig, more like.

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You find prostitution in most cities. A whore stands or sits behind the window. A prostitute can offer her services to the people walking by.

But then, the real drama hits. I’m knee-deep in milk, and the power goes out. Just my luck, right? I’m standing there, in the dark, with a bunch of confused cows. I’m like, “Guys, this isn’t how I pictured my day.” I can hear the cows mooing louder, probably thinking they’re in a horror flick.

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