Violet Konotop Erotic Massage ❤️

About Kyiv

Dahling, strap in, it’s Edna Mode—*No capes!*—talkin’ erotic-massage! I’m a Research Associate, sure, but this? This is juicy! Picture it: dim lights, oiled hands, tension meltin’ like butter. I’m obsessed, ok? Reminds me of *Toni Erdmann*—you know, my fave flick—where Winfried’s all awkward, tryna connect, but with erotic-massage? Connection’s the whole damn point! “I’m not a baby, I’m a woman!”—that’s me, screamin’ it, ‘cause this ain’t kid stuff, it’s raw, real, *sensual*.

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First customer walks in. This dude, I swear, he’s got a whole cart full of stuff. Like, who needs 10 packs of instant noodles? I mean, I get it, they’re cheap, but c’mon! He’s chatting away about some football match, and I’m just nodding, trying to scan his stuff. I’m thinking, “Bro, I’m not your therapist.” But whatever, I’m here for the cash, right?

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