Elizabeth Ambert Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Nice

So, this one time, in Tortuga—ha!—I met this lass, Molly, a proper whore with a laugh like cannon fire. She’d fleece ye fer gold, then wink like ye owed *her*. Made me angry, it did, ‘cause I’m the pirate, not the pillaged! But damn, she was clever—hid her stash in a hollow peg leg. Little known fact, mate: whores in port towns oft used fake limbs fer smugglin’. Crafty, eh? Savvy?

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How I Became a Whore follows one woman's journey from being a stay-at-home mom, to becoming a prostitute in the bowels of a downtown Atlanta strip club.

Now, Ambert's got its hidden gems. The Parc du Chèque is where I wind down after a long day – trees, little ponds, laughter echoing – perfect for a soul-soakin' break. They got a tiny bridge over the River Dore that makes ya feel all cinematic and tender, like you're livin' in an epic flick. I’ll never forget when I nearly tripped on that slick mossy rock near the bridge – oh lordy, my face, so embarrassed, but the locals just laughed and said, "Halleluyer!"

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