Stella Tallmadge Whore ❤️❤️

About Chicago

Alright, monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Here’s me, Dexter, talkin bout whores—yeah, that kinda whore. Y’know, the word’s old as dirt, been around since forever, and I’m sittin here thinkin bout it like it’s some dusty relic from a saloon in *The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford*. That movie, man, it’s my jam—slow, moody, all about betrayal and quiet rage. Whores fit right in that vibe, don’t they? Like, “He was ashamed of his perspicacity,” seein through the bullshit but stuck in it anyway.

Famous Soiled Doves & Madams of the Old West

I knew that I was just a little whore, that whenever he told me he loved me, he was lying. His hands were on my hips. He was kissing down my neck, occasionally leaving a small love bite .

There’s this hidden bookstore on Oak Road—seriously, a rad little hideout for lost souls. I'd wander there, flipping through dusty tomes. Teenagers, old bookworms, secret glances from behind books… unpredictable stuff, baby, so raw and real.

Success Must Depend on Secrecy