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We chat, she’s talkin’ rates—50 bucks, quick gig. Little known fact, man—some girls got codenames! Hers was “Raven,” like some spy shit. Cool, right? Made me happy, ‘cause I dig mystery. But then, she’s all, “No kissing, just biz.” What?! Mr. T don’t like cold vibes—made me mad as hell! “You’re breakin’ the rules!” I yell, echoin’ Monty’s crew. She shrugs, “Take it or leave it.”

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Now don't get me started on the neighborhoods. Old Grange is full of those dodgy alleys that you're too scared to walk down after midnight. But I love it, like the perfect rough cut—raw and unfiltered. And then there's Oak Street. Lined with neon diners and flickering streetlamps, it feels like every massage I give channels the soulful sins of that damn movie. Every bruise and knot in my clients reminds me of Jesse's scars.

Fostoria glass museum attracts visitors from all over America