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About San Antonio

Course, there’s the rub—price ain’t cheap. Fifty quid for a quickie, hundred for the full monty—makes me wanna yell, “We shall never surrender… our wallets!” Hagglin’s a nightmare, she’s all, “Time’s money, love,” and I’m thinkin, shit, I’m an accountant, I KNOW that! Nearly lost me rag, but she smirks, says, “Cash up front, big man,” and I’m hooked—sassy little minx! Funniest bit? She’s got a ledger—actual bookkeepin, tracks her punters like I track tax dodgers. Blew me mind—prossie with a balance sheet!

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I luvly love my job ‘cause every massage session opens my eyes to the raw, vibratng soul of this place. The spa itself is like a sanctuary amid the bustling streets. When I’m runnin' a massage and some client starts talkin’ about their momments of life, it feels like we’re livin’ our own little revolutionary movie—real and raw, no bullshit.

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