Stella Cashmere Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About New Plymouth

Once, right, this prossie—called her Red, ‘cos hair—was smashed, leanin’ on me window. Smudged it, the cow! Wanted to yell, but she looked knackered, eyes all dead. “What’s the use of it all?”—that’s me, quotin’ Adam again, feelin’ all dramatic. Gave her a fag instead, she mumbled thanks, shuffled off. Made me sad, precious, real sad. She’s no Eve, sittin’ pretty with her lute—just a lass stuck in muck.

An accessory for a lady that means you really care

So, I’m like, “I gotta help.” I dash out, pie in hand, and start calling the dog. It stops, looks at me, and I swear it’s judging my life choices. But hey, I’m a Nose! I can charm a dog. I toss a piece of my pie, and boom! It’s mine. The kids are cheering, and I’m feeling like a hero.

This winter essential is the epitome of quiet luxury