Megan Briar Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Pisses me off, though—how folks judge ‘em. “Unclean!” they sneer, like they’re bloody elves, all high and mighty. Mate, ye don’t know her life! Maybe she’s got kids, or ran from some orc of a husband. Surprised me once, readin’—in old Rome, prostitutes paid taxes! Called ‘em “registered women”—fancy that! Government takin’ a cut of arse, now that’s a racket I’d book! “The Almighty doesn’t care,” like the rabbi says in the flick—why should ye?

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Alright, listen up, buddy. So I'm chillin' in PBriar (us) – let me tell ya, it's a total mixed bag, but damn, it's my mixed bag. Imagine this: I stroll down Elmwood Ave, right? crazy little coffee spots, quirky hip diners, ppl swiping left and right in GRACE Park. I swear, it’s like you can almost hear “I ain't got no troubles” (yep, 25th Hour vibe, baby!).

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