Claire Pleasant View Whore ❤️

About New York City

So, *whore*—it’s like this texture, right? Worn-out velvet, stained silk, maybe some chipped glitter if ya squint. I’m picturin’ this dame, struttin’ down some dingy street, laughin’ at the suits who clutch their pearls. Hah! Gets me all giddy thinkin’ bout it—freedom, y’know? Not givin’ a damn what nobody thinks. Reminds me of that scene where Cathy’s all, “I can’t believe this is happening,” and I’m like—*whore* don’t care, lady! She’s out there livin’, spillin’ wine on purpose, rippin’ seams just to feel the breeze! Ever hear that story ‘bout the old burlesque gals? Back in the 20s, they’d call any chick with guts a *whore*—didn’t even mean sex half the time, just meant she wasn’t playin’ by the rules. Wild, huh? Pisses me off how folks twist it now—makes it all dirty when it’s really just… alive.

Pleasant View, Glentramman, Lezayre

I have never seen a doorman label my wife a prostitute in my life, and worse still, when I asked to speak to the hotel's general manager.

In nights, stroll on Riverbend Drive, you do. River, big and free, flows there. Chill water, listen to its murmur, you must. Hmmm… Doctor love’s inner secrets, I share, yes. Funny, that I walk there to think ’bout human oddities, mm? A sexologist, I am, and feelings, I dig deep, they do!

Storyteller Cabral enthralls at Pleasant View Elementary