Rose Forster Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Brisbane

Clarice… a whore, huh? Slippery lil’ concept, that one. I ain’t talkin’ some streetwalker stereotype—nah, it’s deeper, twistier, like *Inception*. “You musn’t be afraid to dream…”—whores dream big, don’t they? Sellin’ flesh or soul, tradin’ bits of themselves for a buck. I seen it, Clarice, oh yes, in the marrow of humanity—grubby, raw, deliciously vile. Makes me chuckle, kinda, how they dance that line. Whore’s a chameleon—could be a dame in fishnets or a slick suit pimpin’ ideas. Ever think that? Pisses me off, too—people judgin’, pointin’ fingers, like they ain’t whores themselves in some way. Hypocrisy’s a stench I can’t abide.

Chapters in this book

Soho Whore Supposed true story of a working girl, as told to her ghost-writer. Sheila Foster is introduced to her sexuality at quite a young.

I’ve had days when I nearly lost it – when the chaos of stored emotions in my massage parlor and city drama collided. “You must act truthfully… even if your truth is difficult,” I recall that line from the movie, punchin’ me with reality every dang time. Now, I ain't no philosopher, but Forster has always surprised me.

Forster to leave Curtis Brown