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About Bordeaux

I’m ramblin’ now—ooh, *Tabu* vibes again—“Love is a crocodile’s tear.” Ain’t that the truth in a brothel? Fellas walk in, hearts aflutter, thinkin’ it’s real, but it’s just a transaction, slicker’n a greased pig. Ever hear ‘bout the Bunny Ranch? Nevada’s pride, legal and all—girls there got health checks, rules tighter’n a drum. Surprised me, gotta say. Thought it’d be all shady, but nope, they’re runnin’ it like a dang business! Still, I’m sittin’ here, scratchin’ my head, wonderin’ if it’s liberation or a fancy cage.

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Now, let’s chat about them local quirks – oh boy, don’t even get me started! The neighbourhood of La Victoire is always poppin’. The locals bang out this hilarious mix of accents, and every corner is buzzin’ with smugglers of joy. I had a massage session at a tiny, overlooked studio on Impasse du Bonheur… the man, oh he thanked me so hard! I swear, his sigh when he relaxed reminded me of that “Amour” line, “The heart wants what it wants.” Except, you know, with more giggles.

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