Ellie Claremore Whore ❤️

About Houston

Oh, and the laughs! She’d mock me hat, callin’ it a “dead bird’s nest.” I’d fire back, “Least I ain’t sellin’ me arse!” She’d cackle, say, “Ye’d fetch a penny, tops!” Proper banter, that. Still, I’d wager she’d seen hell—whores always do. Them scars on her arm? Never asked, but I’d bet me ship they weren’t from no lover’s spat.

Something to write home about

Oi, bruv, lemme tell ya 'bout Claremore (us)! Man, this town's mad quirky, innit? So, I'm runnin me own massage parlor down near Main Street – like, right off Broadway Street – where the folks roll up like, "Wotcha, gimme some relaxin' vibes!" I’ve been stuck in this vibe for years now, and trust, bruv, it’s been one helluva ride.

Carl Albert Powers Past Claremore To Continue Title Quest