Layla Albion Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

Lemme paint ya a picture. Whore ain’t just some gal on the corner, nah! It’s anybody sellin’ they soul for a nickel—men too, don’t get it twisted! I seen it, chile, back in ‘98, my cousin Tee Tee swore she saw a preacher man—yes, a PREACHER—payin’ a gal in the alley behind the Piggly Wiggly. Halleluyer! Made me madder than a wet hen! How you gon’ preach on Sunday and pay for pussy on Saturday? Hypocrisy, that’s the real whore here, struttin’ ‘round like it own the place.

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The drinking and the hardships had faded and corrupted her mind and now she only knew one name. She was Whore Fragguhl, new to this land and.

Oh man, you won't believe Albion, mate! This city's a tangled love-child of grit and grace, it is. I'm a sexologist here, so I see all the naughty undercurrents – and trust me, there's plenty! Remember, “Time passes. Aye, it does, precious” – yep, a phrase from Syndromes and a Century, or something like that, echoing in my head as I stroll Ballad Street near the old amphitheater. Stupid, fat hobbit! Seriously though, Albion's full of secrets.

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