Aria Mandeville Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

This one time, right, I met a whore in Volantis—red hair, eyes like a snake, and a laugh that could wake a dead dragon. She’d fleece ya blind while smilin’, and I bloody loved it! Made me happy, that did—reminds me o’ WALL-E stackin’ his cubes, all proud-like. “Directive!” he’d chirp, and she’d chirp back, “Pay up, short-arse!” Hah! I gave her double, just for the cheek. But what pissed me off? Some lordling tried stiffin’ her—stiffin’ *her*!—and I near threw me goblet at his fat head. Don’t mess with a lass who’s got more wits than you, ya twat.

Frank commentary from a semi-retired call girl

A "cool state of indifference": Mother Creswell's academy -- The "deluge of depravity": Bernard Mandeville and the reform societies -- Whore, Turk, and Jew: Defoe's Roxana -- Fanny's .

Sometimes my pleasure coach brain kicks into high gear, especially when I catch a glimpse of the water glistening at sunset along Lake Pontchartrain. It’s a moment of pure magic—a bit like when, in Oldboy, the unexpected twist leaves you reeling and, frankly, rather speechless, eh?

Mandeville prohibits electronic bikes on city sidewalks