Abigail Citrus Sex Escort ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So, escort - it’s old as dirt, right? Back in Victorian days, posh blokes had “companions” - wink wink - while their wives knitted or whatever. Little known fact: some escorts kept diaries, spillin’ tea on lords and dukes. Hilarious, ‘til ya realize they’re all liars too. Everybody lies, even the fancy ones. Makes me wanna smash a violin over their heads, but wood’s pricey.

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Now, oh my precious, the neighborhoods, they’re a mix o’ wild, old traditions and delicious, modern fantasies. Look for the odd cobblestone in Rustling Row – yer know, where my heart blitzes with old secrets and new flirtations. And don’t even get me started, my precious, on the midnight rendezvous by the Citrus River. Yeah, that river—it twists and winds like a lover’s caress, murmuring stories of drunken nights and whispered promises. Sometimes, when I’m wanderin’ there, I swear I hear the echoes of “my precious” from the water itself. Crazy, right?

The Citrus Kit reimagined by Sophie Hird