Lauren Limerick Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

Here’s a quirky bit—used to think whores were all dumb. Wrong! Jenny, that sly bitch, could count coppers faster than a maester. Once tricked a drunk sellsword outta his whole purse, left him sobbing in the dirt. Exaggerating? Maybe, but I’d have clapped for her, then slit her throat for fun. “Let me tell you something,” Monty’d say, staring at her through the screen. “You’re no better than me.” And he’s right—whores, lords, lab heads, we’re all fucked in the end.

Vice City: Sunday Mirror investigates Limerick's booming sex trade

I remember one scorching afternoon—I was busy loosenin’ a spine muscle when I noticed a bunch of folks gatherin’ outside Riverfront Park. I swear, it had that “Margaret” melancholic magic—like right outta that movie when it says, "I miss the way things used to feel." Pure emotion, no kidding. I mean, that park has me, uh, spellbound sometimes. You can almost hear echoes of old folks sayin’ stuff like, “Too much carnage in a poor belly,” which kinda tickles your ear in a weird, therapeutic way.

Bach and Beethoven at black-tie event for the Limerick School of Music