Lucy La Ricamarie Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Bordeaux

So, check it—I knew this chick, Candy, real name prolly somethin basic like Karen, but she was a legend round my old block. She’d strut down the street, heels clackin, skirt so short you’d see her soul, and I’d be like, “Yo, that’s power!” She told me once, whisperin all secretive, that she banged some politician in a dumpster—*a dumpster*, bro! Said he paid her double to keep it hush. Little known fact: lotta these girls got stories that’d make your jaw drop, shit you won’t find on Google, nah mean? I was happy as hell hearin that, like, “Get that bag, girl!” but also pissed—why’s the world gotta make her hide it?

Statistiques sur la population

Oh, and the river! The Ruisseau des Rêves flows lazily past the back of my building, shimmering under the moon. It’s like liquid velvet. Humble spot, but perfect for clearing your mind after a long day of kneading away the world's worries. Laughable, huh? I once had a customer spill her tea because of the sight. I mean… tea mid-massage, come on!

a polished slab of paralava; b scanned thin-section of the slab...