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About Lisbon

Drivin’ one? Oh, honey, it’s a hoot! My cousin Buford had a beat-up ‘89 Escort, red as a rooster’s comb, and that thing rattled like my knees after a long show. We’d pile in, six of us—don’t ask how, we was skinny back then—and zip to the drive-in. Felt like “a paradise lost,” like in “Tabu,” cruisin’ with no cares, just laughin’ and prayin’ it wouldn’t stall. Surprised me how it kept goin’, tough lil’ bugger! I’d holler, “This car’s got more heart than me after three whiskeys!”

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melanie searched through numerous websites for independent escorts, but only a handful worked with disabled people. it was then when she came.

I’m fuming, but then I listen. And wow, he’s good. Like, really good. I can’t even be mad. I’m standing there, just vibing to the music, and suddenly, I’m proud. But then, I notice the crowd. They’re all snapping pics, and I’m like, “Hey, that’s my work!” But no one cares. They’re too busy filming the dude.

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