Emily Stapleton Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

Sometimes I think – blimey, they’ve seen it all. Drunks, lords, perverts – *omnia vanitas*, all vanity, eh? Happiest I felt was hearin’ bout a whore who conned a duke outta his breeches. Left him starkers in Soho! Roarin’ laugh, that was. Total *Caché* moment – secrets unravelled, trousers down.

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It's my word you's a whore, taste good, right? Turn around, get on all four. You pulling my hair, shut the fuck up. Why you fucking me like that? Shut the fuck.

Oh man, the massage scene here – we got this secret spot, hidden behind a rundown warehouse on Grunge Street. Ain’t on any tourist map, but it’s my personal jewel. Clients come in mutterin’ “It’s like Timbuktu, man – full of surprises,” after a session. I say “Eh what’s up, doc?” and then crack a joke.

For British Photographer Rich Stapleton, It's Not a Real Collaboration Unless You're Stepping On Each Other's Toes