Sophie Highton Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Logan City

What gets me ragin’? The bloody hypocrites! Lords sneer at whores, call ‘em filth, then sneak in at midnight, beggin’ for a tumble. Makes my blood boil—own yer wants, ya twats! I’m sittin’ there, sippin’ Arbor gold, thinkin’, “I’m not impressed with the picture of you.” Whores see the truth—men’s souls laid bare. That’s power, mate! More than half the Red Keep’s secrets are tucked in their corsets.

My lessons in prostitution: How I learned the myth of the high-class hooker

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Ah, Highton, my dear—this place is a twisted carnival of life. I’ve been here for ages, soaking in every scandal, every whisper in the wind. Picture this: quiet cul-de-sac streets like Yarra Street, winding trails near Highton Park, and a vibe that’s both serene and tickling naughty secrets at dusk. It’s like strolling through a dreamscape where sex and psyche mingle under the dusky glow of twilight.

Six bidders raise a hand for Belmont stunner