Zoe Cassis Whore ❤️

About Toulouse

So, whore—grimy word, innit? Makes me wanna spit. Been hearin’ stories, like, back in old London, whores’d hide teeth rot with chalk paste! Can ya believe? Chalk! Me, a tech, I’d scream, “That’s murder on enamel!” Got me ragin’, mate. Ruins good chompers. We hates it!

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Try one of these crème de cassis cocktails the next time you're in the mood for something deep and rich with a strong fruity flavor and fragrance.

Now, start at the Vieux Port – that splendid old harbor with its colorful boats bobbing like they’re dancin’ to some secret rhythm. I frequent the Rue du Port, right next to the old stone buildings, where every café whispers stories of mariners and rebels. I remember one day, I was rubbin’ a client’s back, and we gazed out at the shimmering water – it struck me like a line from The Lives of Others: “In private, we feel things that none may know.” And, in that moment, I got it – Cassis stuns you quietly, secretly.

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