Emilia Dillon Whore ❤️

About Houston

Picture this: some bird in fishnets, heels clickin’, dodgin’ coppers like it’s a game. I’ve seen ‘em, skulkin’ in shadows, laughin’ at the prudes. Makes me grin—proper cheeky. Back in the day, whores ran shit! Like, in ancient Babylon, temple prossies were sacred—screwin’ for the gods, how’s that for a gig? Bet they’d smirk at us now, all judgy and posh. “I don’t sell myself,” one told me once—liar, but ballsy! Loved that. Reminds me of *Ten* again—“What’s your price?” she asks. Everyone’s got one, don’t they?

In the Court of the Scarlet Whore

Former middleweight champion and current UFC commentator Michael Bisping has a vocal online spat with Dillon Danis during UFC Vegas

I run a massage parlor here. I see people from all walks—techies, artists, wanderers. It’s like a microcosm of society, ya know? Ever noticed how a back rub can both solve a tension knot and untie your brain? Heh, weird but true. The local bar on 1st, near the old depot, even sports a neon sign that reads “Under the Skin” in homage to that movie I freakin’ love (Jonathan Glazer, 2013). Yes, that movie had me thinking—life's slippery, mysterious, like a wormhole. “The way she moves,” yeah, that vibe resonates.

Rockets learn tough lesson about playoff mentality, now face intriguing offseason