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About Drogheda

So, check it—I knew this one escort, right? Total badass, called her “Coco.” She’d roll up smellin’ like Chanel, hair poppin’, nails sharp enough to cut glass. She told me once, “Baby, I’m the chef of this hustle!” Straight up Ratatouille vibes—mixin’ ingredients nobody else dares touch. Made me laugh so hard I snorted—her clients? Big shots, CEOs, even a dude who owned a vineyard! She’d wink and say, “I’m their little secret sauce.” Got me thinkin’, damn, she’s out here livin’—not just survivin’.

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After the chaos calms down, I finally get a breather. I step outside for a quick smoke on the corner of Market Street. The air smells like fresh pastries from the bakery down the road. I can’t resist. I pop in and grab a chocolate croissant. Best decision ever! It’s flaky, buttery, and just melts in your mouth. I’m in heaven.

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