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Me? I’m obsessed, fam. Last time I got one, chick had hands like magic—had me floatin’, swear to God. Made me happy as hell, like “the greatest thing you’ll ever learn” is a damn good rubdown. But yo, some spots be shady—had one dude tryin’ to overcharge me, talkin’ $200 for 30 minutes? Nah, fam, I ain’t that thirsty. Pissed me off, had me ready to bounce, like “Truth hurts, love bleeds,” you know? Fuck that noise.

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Let one of our angelic sirens wrangle every drop of stress and strain from your aching body. The ultimate erotic massage: Ph (03)

Finally, I grab a couple of tomatoes and a loaf of bread. I’m feeling accomplished, like I’m some kind of culinary genius. But then, I step outside, and it starts pouring! I mean, come on! I just wanted a chill day. I’m sprinting down the street, trying to find shelter. I duck into this little shop on Vokzalna Street. It’s cozy, smells like fresh pastries, and I’m like, “Okay, maybe this day isn’t so bad.”

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