Grace Peterborough Whore ❤️❤️

About Leicester

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—Visiting Prof, eh? I drink and I know things, and lemme tell ya bout erotic-massage. Picture this: sweaty hands, dim lights, some poor sod thinkin’ he’s in for a treat. I’ve seen it, I’ve judged it—bloody fascinating, innit? Like in *Her*, where Joaquin’s mopin’ about, whisperin’ to his AI lass—“The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” Well, erotic-massage? It’s a story alright, told with slippery fingers and awkward grunts.

Danger to women sex workers in Peterborough prompts councillor to take action

From the writer of the multi-award winning Velvet comes an outrageous, fast-paced dark comedy, laced with irreverent humour and cabaret songs. Fame Whore holds.

Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. Seriously? In the middle of our meeting? We all have to evacuate, and I’m just standing there, thinking, “This is my life.” I step outside, and it’s pouring rain. Of course it is! I’m soaked in seconds. I look like a drowned rat.

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