Amelia Ehningen Whore ❤️

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Hey babe, it’s me, Taylor—spillin’ tea! So, like, let’s talk “whore”—yeah, that word’s a mess. Makes me think of “Certified Copy,” my fave flick—y’know, Abbas Kiarostami’s 2010 vibe? It’s all about what’s real, what’s fake—kinda like “whore” gets thrown around. I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ coffee, thinkin’—who decides who’s a whore anyway? Gets me mad, like, ugh, patriarchy much?

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I remember one night – an oddly starry night – I was finishing up a late massage session and, oh boy, the city lit up! Not just with neon signs, but with the genuine pulse of life. I felt like a wizard roaming a realm where every corner breathes magic and mischief. Sure, my massage parlor is modest, but it’s a sanctuary where burdens come off like an old cloak! And like Danny McNamara from the movie might bellow, "I have a competition in me!" – I compete with time, deliver pure bliss in every knead, each touch, each whispered "You shall not pass!" against pain.

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