Bella Atlantic Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

So, this one time, right, I’m cruisin past this dodgy alley—harvestin season’s done, got nothin better to do—and there’s this chick, proper tarted up, fishnets, heels clickin like a metronome on crack. She’s yellin at some punter, “You think I’m cheap, huh?!” I’m like, bloody hell, love, ya screamin loud enough to wake the crows! Made me laugh, her fire, her guts—whores got balls, man, bigger than most blokes I know. Reminds me of that line from *Caché*—“I’m not guilty, you are!”—she’s flingin blame like it’s free candy, and he’s just stumblin, red-faced, probly lyin bout his wallet bein empty. Everybody lies, right?

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Gosh darn, I even have my favorite diner – Rusty’s on Lincoln – best late-night grub. They make biscuits that could fix a broken heart. I’m always in a hurry, sometimes mumblin’ typos in texts like “luv it” or “sooo amazin,” and I know, sugar, I'm not perfect.

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