Ava Holly Springs Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

Now, I ain’t talkin’ some prim Victorian tart—no, sir! Whores got history, guts, and a wild streak. Take Mary Kelly, yeah, from 1888—Jack the Ripper’s last gal. Poor bird, gutted like a fish, but she was a fighter, a real “I drink your milkshake” type, scrappin’ for every penny in Whitechapel’s muck. Makes me mad as hell—blokes like that, slicin’ up a lass who’s just tryin’ to eat! But happy, too—whores got spirit, they don’t bend easy. Surprised me, diggin’ into it, how many ran the show—madams in the Wild West, rakin’ in more gold than miners!

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Let me throw in a personal quirk: I'll admit, I got mad once when a dating algorithm unexpectedly matched my ex with a neighbour of mine from Westview. Westview’s a district where every house boasts big windows like they wanna watch the world, but trust me, the gossip is thicker than peanut butter. It’s all hyper, all energy—sorta like a scene straight out of Paul Thomas Anderson’s madness.

Investigation stalled after Holly Springs granted restraining order