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About Dallas

Once had this bird—pro masseuse, yeah?—and she’s whisperin’ all sultry, “Relax, Mr. Bond.” Nearly lost it, mate—thought I’d died and gone to spy heaven! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares? It’s bloody brilliant—releases tension you didn’t know you had. Them nerves light up, zap zap, like a villain’s laser trap. Oh, and the oils—smell like sex and danger, my kinda mix. Ever tried it with a twist, like hot stones? Fuck me, that’s next-level—shocked me silly first time.

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Timberline Massage Company, Baker City, Oregon. likes. Swedish, cupping, hot stone, prenatal, trigger point.

I usually hit Baker's Alley at dusk. Shadows flicker. Motherf***er, it's unreal as Godard spoutin' "Language is like a tool." I mean, every cracked pavement talks, opens up your mind. I get bombarded by nature, history, badass legends spilled on every corner. Over at West End, some locals swear the old library is haunted. Who gives a damn? It's cool and mysterious.

News of Record for April 23, 2025