Allison Seabrook Whore ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Lemme tell ya, “whore” ain’t just a word—it’s a freakin’ vibe. Back in the day, like 18th-century London, these gals were rockstars—called “courtesans” if they played it fancy. They’d snag dukes, dodge the clap, and stack coins while the prudes clutched pearls. I’m like, *yes, queen, get it!*—makes me happy as hell seein’ hustle like that. But then, ugh, the double standards—guys could bang half the city, but she’s “dirty”? Pissed me off then, pisses me off now.

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The river — yup, the Seabrook River, though it's small but full of character. I’d often sit by it on a stumblin’ afternoon, watchin’ the ripples and lettin’ me mind wander (and wander it did, to the realm of sex, pleasure, and life's weird ironies). Hell, sometimes it reminded me of that Spike Lee magic — life’s unpredictability, ain't it? “Life's a gamble,” I mutter, lost in the bubbles.

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