This is not Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, Sister Bertrille, or Marie Curie. She is a sex worker. Nothing wrong with that, but let's not idealize her into someone you'd want to introduce to your mama.
Grab your lube, box of tissues and enjoy the show for what it is. And let others do likewise. She doesn't need a Praetorian Guard.
Some of you look for reasons to swoon and clutch your pearls.
One minute you're telling everyone else to leave them alone and let them live their lives, and the next you're sitting in high judgement on them for doing just that. Get a grip, fools.
Your forty bucks a month only gets you a place at the peep show. Tug your toy and enjoy the show.
This isn't My Fair Lady and Henry Higgins you ain't.
Even so, while the hickey monster is hammering away at that lovely gash, I'm convinced Leora is laying there mentally screaming, "Oh Yes, Gomer! Oh God, Gomer! Just like that, Gomer!"
It's all Leora's fault.
If she'd get her biscuits in the oven and her buns in the bed and flog that cooch I wouldn't get bored and play with the whiny little bitches.