Sarah Budapest Xvii. Keruelet Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Nyiregyhaza

Ruh-roh, got sidetracked—back to it! My fave flick, *Assassination of Jesse James*, slow as heck but so juicy. Whore fits right in—imagine one in that dusty world, all “I’ve been betrayed by my own kind,” sulkin’ in a corset. Surprised me how deep it’d feel—whore ain’t just a job, it’s a vibe, y’know? Gritty, messy, real. I’d wag my tail at ‘em, no judgin’. Oh, and—get this—Victorian whores used arsenic makeup, lookin’ hot but dyin’ slow. Dramatic as hell, right?

But then, I see this cute girl across the store. She’s checking out some vintage stuff. I’m like, “Okay, Saver, time to impress.” I strut over in my traffic cone jacket. “Hey, do you think this looks good?” She laughs, and I’m like, “Nailed it!” We start chatting, and it turns out she’s from the neighborhood too. We bond over our love for cheap eats and thrift finds.