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About Karaganda

I got mad once, tho—some shady joint charged me double, said “special service,” but it was just loud music and a sticky table. Don’t pee on my leg, pal, I know a scam! Made me wanna yell, “Where’s the justice?” like that *Timbuktu* dude shoutin’ at the jihadists. But when it’s good? Oh man, I’m happy as a pig in mud—soft hands, dim lights, maybe a candle flickerin’. Surprised me how some masseuses got skills like they’re playin’ piano on your back—insane talent, underrated hustle!

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So, I’m sippin’ my coffee, tryin’ to shake off the cobwebs, when my phone buzzes. It’s my partner, Zhenya. “Get your butt to the station, now!” she texts. Great, just what I need. I throw on my jacket and head out. The streets are already buzzin’. People rushin’ to work, cars honkin’ like they’re in a race.