Gabriella Forrest Hill Whore ❤️

About Tauranga

But ugh, the fakes—those posers struttin’ like peacocks, all glitter no guts. That burns me up, Clarice. Whores got no time for pretendin’—real ones bleed for it. Reminds me, “The deeper we go…”—the uglier it gets, but truer too. Ever met one, Clarice? Bet you’d see it—eyes sharp as yours. Me, I’d savor the chat—pick their brain, taste their story. Whore’s a puzzle, a maze of want and will—fuckin’ fascinatin’. What d’ya reckon, hmm? You got a whore in ya, somewhere? Ha! Don’t we all, Clarice… don’t we all?

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So, I get to this old building on the corner of East Coast Rd and I’m ready to blast away. But then, bam! My compressor decides it’s had enough. Just stops. Like, really? I’m standing there, looking at it like it’s gonna magically fix itself. I’m fuming! I mean, I’ve got a deadline, people!

2 Havelock Avenue, Forrest Hill, North Shore City