Esme Pearsall Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

She’d strut by my office, yellin’, “Eat my shorts, pig!” Made me laugh, tho—sassy as hell. Reminds me of that movie line, “You’re a mess, Joey,” ‘cept she ain’t no Joey—she’s chaos in fishnets. Hated her guts some days, ‘specially when she’d smuggle cigs in—guards too dumb to catch her. But happy too, ‘cause damn, she kept shit interestin’. Surprised me once, left a rose on my desk—whaaat? Prolly stole it, but still, weirdly sweet.

Books by Ronald Pearsall

Ronald Pearsall Macmillan, - England - pages "The Worm in the Bud is the first overall survey and analysis of the whole amazing phenomenon of Victorian sexuality, from the mock .

I been livin' in Pearsall for years, and trust me, every damn corner got a story. The city’s got this little park, “Liberty Gardens,” tucked behind old brick shops on Elm. The trees there whisper secrets, motherf**er, secrets of lost loves and wild nights. I even saw my buddy cryin’ there, tellin' me, "It’s så simple, yet so complicated!" damn, just like in Amour, ya know?

Ricky Pearsall Secures a Six-Yard Touchdown Catch