Megan Boston Spa Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Sheffield

So, in my head, this whore’s a badass. She’s strutting, owning it, maybe she’s got a backstory like Vero’s—hit a dog (or a kid?) and just keeps walking. “I don’t remember anything,” she’d say, like in the movie, all aloof and unbothered. I love that—she’s messy, human, not some saint. Makes me happy thinking she’s out there, flipping off the haters. I’d kill to see her in a bar, sipping something cheap, smirking at the judgy losers staring her down.

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So, I finish up my shift, and I’m off to her place on Church Street. It’s a short ride, but the whole time I’m thinkin’ about how I just wanna chill. I get there, and it’s a full-on soap opera. My sister’s crying, my dad’s pacing, and I’m just standing there like, “What the heck is going on?” Turns out, it’s just a misunderstanding about a birthday party. Classic family drama, right?

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