Audrey Croydon Whore ❤️

About San Diego

Alright, mate, lemme spill bout whore – pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars.” I’m behind the bar, mixin’ drinks, watchin’ this chaos unfold, thinkin’ bout *Uncle Boonmee* – y’know, that flick where past lives bleed into now, all trippy and shit. Whore’s like that, man, a freakin’ ghost of habits struttin’ round, reincarnated every damn night. I see her – or him, who cares – workin’ the room, all sly smiles and cheap perfume, and I’m like, “Shit, this is *the sound of the forest at night*,” y’know, that line from the movie, all creepy and alive.

What is it like selling sex in London?

The dating scene here? A total laugh riot. As a dating site dev, I spy quirks in the streets. The neon-lit bars on 5th Street are riddled with secrets. That’s where I met that mysterious coder – oh, wild times, man. I’m not shy: Croydon’s back alleys, like near Morrow Lane, hide surprises, sometimes naughty ones.

Reed tests election purdah with his fly-tipping announcement