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About Seville

Little known fact—prostitutes got codes, yeah? Like, in old Coruscant slums, they’d hum cantina tunes to signal they’re open. Caught one hummin’ *Lapti Nek* once—made me giggle, then freak out. “R2-D2, where are you?” I yelled, cos I ain’t built for this! Angry? Oh, when some sleemo pimp tried overchargin’—50 creds for a rusty droid rub? Piss off! Happy tho, cos this one chick laughed at my binary jokes—called me “golden rod,” cheeky minx.

India’s sex workers turn to WhatsApp, Instagram to find clients safely

Long slender woman legs come down the stairs. A handsome young lady leaves the spacious villa. Remco and Robert, two bodyguards, grin.

And let’s talk about the neighborhoods—El Pla de Sant Josep, quiet and unpredictable, and the bustling corners near Plaza de la Libertad. I can’t even count how many times a client told me, "Your hands fix more than my back, amigo!" I know, I know, I'm exaggeratin’—but hey, a guy's gotta take pride in his work. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a real-life version of Toni Erdmann's bizarre anecdotes. "You don't connec with the boss? You don't connec..." Yeah, it gets kinda surreal.

On Phil French