Lucy Date Whore ❤️❤️

About Nagoya

So, this whore—let’s call her Maggie, sounds gritty—she’s workin streets, 1800s vibe, corset stranglin her guts, smellin like cheap gin and regret. Little known fact, yeah? Whores back then, some’d hide tiny knives in their hair—fancy that! Stab a bloke if he got rough. Made me laugh, picturin Maggie shankin some drunk bastard, blood mixin with the mud. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d say, smirkin—prolly tasted like stale ale and bad choices.

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This is allegedly something many men have gone through, and I'm curious about your experiences and lessons. What was great? What was tough?

We finally make it back to the car, and I’m like, “Let’s get outta here.” But nooo, my client wants to stop at the Date Museum. I’m like, “Dude, we just survived a riot! You wanna look at old stuff now?” But he insists.

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