Emma Send Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About London

Real story—friend, let’s call him Bob, total nerd, wanted “company.” Found a gal, “Candy,” $200/hour. Met at a motel—shady, neon buzzing, pure *Zodiac* vibes. “I want to know everything!” Bob says, channeling Ruffalo. Candy’s like, “Cash first, creep.” He’s fumbling, I’m cackling—amateur hour! She was legit tho, ex-stripper, told us about busts in Vegas. Cops raided her old spot, 1998, hid in a dumpster—wild, right? Little known fact: pros dodge taxes, cash-only life. IRS hates ‘em!

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You know, the River Snug glides silently through Send like a lazy snake, outside of which I've knotted many a massage session overheard: half-whispers, soft sighs, and even the occasional rogue mumble of discontent. Oh blimey, the old stone bridge on Riverbend Way is somethin’ else – if walls could talk, they'd spill secrets of love and lost souls. Makes me think, "we shall not falter, we shall not fail!" – cheers to those inspiring words from Spotlight, eh?

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