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About Phoenix

So, escort—man, it’s nuts! Been around forever, like, even Romans had ‘em—called ‘em “lupae,” wolf ladies, ‘cause they howled for clients. How’s that for a history nugget? Makes me giggle, thinkin’ bout some toga dude sneakin’ out at night. Hi-ho! Anyway, I’m all chill ‘bout it—live and let live, ya know? But dang, some jerks out there judgin’ like they’re perfect. Gets me mad, like Anger flippin’ tables in my head—“Who’s got time for this?!”

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And btw, let me spill some lesser-known bite-sized facts: Did ya know that near the old Windmill Square, some families still meet for impromptu picnics? Yessir, right under the giant oak that’s seen more generations than any museum could ever claim. I used to hang out there after sessions – crackling bonfires and deep, raw convos made me feel so damn alive.

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