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About Paris

Here’s a fact ya don’t know—back in ancient Rome, them rich bastards had “erotic rubdowns” at bathhouses. Slaves slatherin’ oil on senators, gettin’ all steamy—gross. Surprised me they didn’t slip and die more often. Slippery floors, slippery morals, same diff. Nowadays, ya got parlors with neon signs screamin’ “happy endin’!”—tacky, loud, hate it. Saw one in Pawnee once, shut it down with a glare.

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Multiple students had reported to faculty members that the boy was showing off videos of himself and Calvi having sex. The school reported it to.

I love to stroll along Rue Antonio – it's full of lively kiosks, quirky shops doubling up as art spots. And lemme tell ya, when I'm giving a body a good knead, I think of the gentle echo of "I mustn't forget" (like that movie, ya know?), echoing in my head. Sometimes I pause mid-massage, mlla, mumble a bit like "oops, my bad!" while my hands get a life of their own, heh.

Terry R. Calvi