Elise Bainbridge Island Whore ❤️

About New York City

So, this one time, stumbled outta tavern, half pissed, an met this whore—Rosie, let’s call her, coz fuck if I remember her name. She had eyes like them favela kids, sharp an hungry, y’know? “Gimme ya silver, short-arse,” she says, bold as brass. Laughed me head off—cheeky tart! Gave her double, coz I’m a soft git when drunk. She weren’t just a shag, tho—told me stories, proper dark ones. Said she once nicked a lord’s purse mid-fuck, spent it on bread for her brat. Ballsy, right? Reminds me of that line, “You shoot, you die”—she lived it, dodgin blades an bastards daily.

BAINBRIDGE ISLAND, WA

I run my massage parlor near Liberty Park. Yep, that’s my turf. Quiet street, relaxed souls. People whisper secrets—commonly about sore muscles and odd dreams. Haha, weird, right?

Honoring Japanese Americans forced to leave Bainbridge Island during WWII