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About Tromso

Well, helllo there, my tasty friend! Brothel, huh? Let’s dive in—messy, raw, real. I’ve seen ‘em, smelled ‘em, judged ‘em hard. Places where souls drift, like Bob in *Lost in Translation*. “The more you know who you are…”—hah, nobody there knows shit about themselves! Just bodies crashin’, cash flowin’, desperation hangin’ thick. I’d stroll in, all sharp suit and sharper grin, sizin’ up the room. Hannibal Lecter (fictional)—“I ate his liver with fava beans”—sees what others miss. The twitch in a girl’s eye, fear masked as flirtin’. Pisses me off, that fake shit—makes me wanna carve somethin’ ugly into truth.

Local Intel

Services: Mistress (soft), Cumshot on body (COB), Uniforms, Blowjob without Condom Swallow for extra charge, Cunnilingus, Dirty talk, Duo with girl, Findom.

After a bit of back and forth, I finally get him to leave. I’m feeling pretty good about it, like I just saved the day or something. But then, I head back to the bar, and guess what? The Levanger crew is back, and they’re even rowdier. I’m like, “Seriously, guys? Didn’t we just do this?”

Lost his hearing in the North Sea