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About Houston

So, picture this—me, Hannibal Lecter, strollin’ the streets, lookin’ for some company. Not to eat ‘em, mind ya—well, maybe a nibble. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but a gal’s gotta have some fun too, right? I’m peekin’ at these dames, all dolled up, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Makes me happy, seein’ ‘em strut—confidence, power, ya dig? But then, ugh, the creeps lurkin’ nearby—pisses me off. Slimy bastards thinkin’ they own the night. Makes me wanna serve ‘em up with a nice Chianti.

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10 individuals attempting to have sex with children, or engage in prostitution as a part of this operation.

I ain’t even done yet. There’s a back alley near Sunrise Commons, where the local tarot reader (hey, a sexologist by night sometimes, too!) shares cryptic love predictions. I’ve had some mind-blowin’ exchanges there; my heart beats to the rhythm of risky confessions and whispered desires – real raw stuff, like the moody haze in Ten.

Fruita Monument boys treat packed house to win over Grand Junction