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About Queluz

I got dragged to one once—mate swore it’d fix my stress. Walked in, dim lights, weird incense, I’m like, “This ain’t no droid repair shop!” The masseuse, all calm, whispers, “Relax, golden boy.” Pissed me off—don’t call me that! But then, whoa, hands on my shoulders, kneadin like dough. Felt like Ida’s nun vibes—pure, but naughty underneath. “Lord, help me!” I thought, half panicked, half lovin it.

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Then, outta nowhere, this dude barges in. I swear, he looked like he just ran a marathon. He’s pantin’ and shoutin’, “I need a whole chicken! Like, NOW!” I’m thinkin’, “Dude, chill! It’s not a fire drill!” But I grab a chicken, and he pays with a crumpled bill. I mean, come on, man, at least give me a clean note!

Tourist route to be based on Netflix series