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So, picture this—I’m drivin’ down some sketchy backroad, lookin’ for a story. Not sayin’ I was huntin’ a prostitute myself, nah, but I seen ‘em. Neon lights flickerin’, girls in heels higher than a Texas oil rig. One time, I swear, this gal waved at me—thought I was a john! Made me madder’n a wet hen. I ain’t that guy! But then I laughed—life’s funny, y’all. How’s that workin’ for ya, struttin’ your stuff for a quick buck?

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The girls are thawing out now prepping for another big day tomorrow 🏔️ Please help this incredible ladies get to $, before they get home.

Down by the Mentor Lighthouse, yeah, that old rusty beauty still stands, defying all the odds. I swear it talks to me every now and then (yep, my wild imagination thanks to all those zen hours). Can't forget the quirky diner on Main Street – Denny's or somethin’ like that – where half my clients used to come through, off-loadin' their crazy day stories while I thought, "How did I end up massaging all these digital-age dudes?" Must be my magic hands, huh?

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