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About Genoa

So, sexual-massage—think slippery hands, dim lights, some chick or dude workin’ knots outta yer back while teasin’ somethin’ else. It’s legit therapy, sure, but with a naughty twist. I got into it years back—Wall Street stress, ya know? Needed to unwind. Found this underground joint in NYC, cash only, no questions. Girl’s hands were magic, like she knew every nerve endin’. Made me happy as hell—tension gone, blood pumpin’! But then—boom—anger hit. She stopped right at the edge, smirkin’, like, “Pay extra, big shot.” Greed, man, hers and mine, clashin’!

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So, I grab a pastry instead. A bomb cornetto, right? I’m munching away, feeling good. Then I decide to stroll down to Piazza della Libertà. It’s a nice square, you know? People chilling, kids running around. But then, outta nowhere, this dog runs up to me. Like, full speed. I’m thinking, “Is this dog gonna bite me?” But nah, it just wants my cornetto. I’m like, “Bro, back off! This is my breakfast!”