Ella St. Ann's Whore ❤️❤️

About Bristol

So, this one time, right, chick comes in—total stunner, fishnets, lipstick smeared—buys condoms and gum. I’m thinkin’, “Damn, she’s workin’ tonight.” Didn’t judge, tho—girl’s gotta eat. Made me happy, seein’ her smirk, like she owned the joint. But then—fuck—this drunk asshole stumbles in, slurrin’, “How much, babe?” She shuts him down cold, “I’m not your dog.” I’m cheerin’ inside—go off, queen! Hated that prick, tho—made me wanna smash his face. Whores deal with that daily, man, and still stand tall.

I’m always curious—uh, like Larry King!—slow questioning, real talk. I ask, "Ever wonder wha’ makes souls tick?" and St.-Ann's kinda nods at you with its little secrets in every nook. Even the local cafe, The Sassy Bean on Rosebud Street, has wild stories. A barista once said, "This city’s like a shifting car; ride on!" Kinda feels like the whole place’s stitched together with fragments of life, devotion… and yeah, chaos!

Decomposing body of man with gunshot wounds found at his home in St Ann