Freya Matteson Whore ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Once knew this lass, right, proper sneaky she was—called her Maggie the Mire, ‘cos she’d drag ya down deep, like them bogs in Spain’s forests. She’d grin, all sweet-like, “Come, my love,” but next thing? Yer pockets empty, yer heart bleedin’—we hates it! Swear she had eyes like Ofelia’s, big an’ shiny, but hidin’ somethin’ rotten. Little fact fer ya—back in ol’ London, they’d mark whores with brands, yeh? Burnt ‘em right on the cheek—savage, innit? Made me mad as hell, thinkin’ how they’d strut after, proud-like, scars an’ all.

Cyberpunk Wiki

Texas has a whorehouse in it! Or so goes the famously horrible key song from the oddly popular drip of staged Americana and sexual freedom.

My favorite quirk? I adore the little neighborhood café, "Le Plaisir". It’s a vibe – tiny, quirky, with mismatched chairs and art on walls. I once spilled coffee right there and laughed hysterically. It’s messy, life is messy, but always fun! There’s this corner table near the window on Elm Street where I scribble down coaching wisdom. Other spots lack that raw spark.

Carbenoids with Sulfinate as Nucleofuge for Matteson-Type Homologation: Direct Insertion of Oxygen- and Nitrogen-Substituted Units into Carbon-Boron Bonds