Lydia Forster Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Oh, and this one time—true story—I saw this whore on the street, right? Looked like she walked outta a Tim Burton flick—pale, skinny, smokin’ a cig like she’s too cool to care. I was like, “Holy crap, that’s hot!” Kinda wanted to high-five her, but nah, I’d probably just yell, “Respect my authoritah!” and run off laughin’. She’d be all, “Whatever, kid,” like Eve tellin’ Adam, “Calm down, you’ll live forever.” Whores got that vibe—untouchable, y’know?

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I gotta say, runnin’ a massage joint here gives me the inside scoop on folks. I’ve seen people come to me all burnt out, full of life’s drama, like straight outta A Separation. “Our lives are so intertwined,” they mutter, all frustrated and joyful at the same time. And I reckon Forster’s the same – a mesh of souls and secrets.

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