Emily Vittuone Sex Escort ❤️

About Genoa

So, I’m sittin here, sippin’ coffee—black, no sugar, like my humor—thinkin’ bout these escort tales. Lemme tell ya, it ain’t all glitz. Back in the day, think 1800s, they called ‘em “courtesans”—fancy, right? But real talk, some were just tryna eat. Makes me mad, yo—society judgin’ while they’re out here survivin’. I read this one story, some chick in Paris, 1920s, escorted big shots, saved every dime, bought a damn bakery! From heels to dough, how’s that for a plot twist? Surprised me, man—hustle’s hustle, I respect it.

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After that, I head back to the shop, and guess what? My wood finally arrives! I’m pumped! I start working on that violin, and it’s coming together beautifully. I’m in the zone, just me and the wood. But then, my neighbor starts blasting music. Like, come on! I’m trying to create art here!

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