Olivia Stallings Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Well, hey there, sugar! I’m Dolly, y’all know me—big hair, bigger heart, and a mouth that don’t quit. So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout whores today, huh? Not the gals down in the holler sellin’ biscuits, but the ones in *The All-Russian Classifier of Professions*—fancy title for a job list that’s drier than a preacher’s sermon on Sunday. Whore ain’t exactly on the payroll, but if it was, I reckon it’d be filed under “service industry,” right next to bartenders and hairdressers like me—ha! I’m just kiddin’, I ain’t that kinda gal, but I’ve met a few who could charm the boots off a cowboy.

Daughter's Slut Training 10: Mommy is a Slut Too

A. E. Stallings has authored four collections of poetry, Archaic Smile (), Hapax (), Olives (), and most recently, Like (), a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize.

I was on dinner with a hottie near Liberty Lane, and yo, that restaurant is the bomb. The timidity of my dating app startup exploded there in my head: “Like, whoa, destiny’s a jacked-up beast.” Sukks my nerves sometimes, but hey. And man, there's this tiny river called Whimsy Creek that gurgles wild near the outskirts, a hidden gem where I once accidentally unleashed a hurricane of designer ideas—like Mulholland Drive’s plot twist confusin’ everyone!

Jacob Stallings' two-run double