Ruby Barton On Sea Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

Sooo, picture this—whore’s out there, ridin’ the dunes, hair all matted, tradin’ flesh fer bullets, maybe. Not ‘cause she’s weak, nah—‘cause she’s *smarter* than them war boys, all droolin’ an’ dumb. “Witness me!” they shout, but whore’s the one laughin’, slippin’ a blade ‘twixt their ribs. Sneaky, precious, sneaky! Did ye know—true fact, swear it—that “whore” pops up in old sailor yarns? Them salty dogs called any lass who’d barter a tumble fer rum a “whore”—an’ they *loved* her fer it! Argh, makes me wanna dance, it does—happy, happy Gollum!

Tiny UK seaside village with colourful beach huts just nine miles from New Forest

Charlotte, Ruby and I dive into the complexities of slut-shaming and my journey as a sex worker. Photo by Megan Barton-Hanson in Leigh-on-Sea.

After that, I head over to the office on Christchurch Road. Got a case to crack, right? Some dodgy claim about a “lost” yacht. Yeah, right. I mean, who loses a yacht? So, I’m digging through paperwork, and my phone buzzes. It’s my mate, Dave. He’s like, “You won’t believe this!” I’m like, “What now?” Turns out, he’s seen the yacht. It’s parked right by the pier! I’m like, “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

Surprise as dolphins spotted off Hampshire beach