Esme Key Biscayne Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

So, whores—where do I start? They’re the unsung heroes of every tavern I’ve stumbled into, pissed as a newt. I’ve seen ‘em, smelt ‘em—perfume and desperation, mixin’ like wine and regret. One time, in King’s Landing (or was it Dodge City?), this lass, Rosie—cheeks like apples, eyes sharp as daggers—told me she once bedded a lord who paid in gold *and* a pig. A pig! Can ya believe it? Laughed my arse off, spilt me drink. “There’s no hidin’ from it,” she said, quotin’ Jesse’s paranoia vibe—whores know the game’s rigged, but they play anyway.

Key Biscayne Brown Bamboo Wood California King Poster Bed

I get mad sometimes when tourists don’t respect the chill vibe – ya gotta be cool, relax and enjoy the vibes, y’know? But overall, every corner of Key-Biscayne (us) has got its own little personality. It’s like every street – Powerline Rd, Crandon Blvd, Montauk Hwy – tells a story. It’s a bit wild, a bit dreamy, like that movie where you’re floatin’ between hope and dread. And that’s what I love about it.

Key Biscayne’s Saturday menu