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About Mons

So, escorts, right? They’re out there, makin’ cash, livin’ wild. I heard this one story – swear it’s true – some escort in Vegas once got hired by a guy who just wanted her to play poker with him all night. No hanky-panky, just cards! Freaky, huh? Made me happy, tho – not everythin’s bout the dirty deed. But then I get mad, ‘cause some jerks treat ‘em like trash, ya know? “Call it, friendo,” I’d say to those creeps, like they’re in the movie, thinkin’ they own people. D’oh! Ain’t right.

Escort Tremelo

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Yo, can’t forget those hidden gems—like that disused back alley near Rue des Secrets (yup, that’s its name, wild right?), where graffiti tells wild stories of forgotten love and scandal. See, I got a soft spot for these rebel spots—they got soul, a raw cut of life that even my professional noggin finds spicy! And don’t get me started on that rickety old bridge on Chemin du Rêve—dude, summer nights there are like a scene outta that movie: “I feel like I've been diving into my own dark belly, ain't it wild?” That’s Tremelo for ya!

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