Paisley Andrews Erotic Massage ❤️

About Dallas

What pisses me off? Pretentious spas chargin’ a king’s ransom for a half-arsed tease. Surprised me once—bloke I knew, stiff as a corpse, walked out bouncin’. True story! Me, I’d rather drink through it, but I see the appeal—bit o’ danger, bit o’ thrill, like Harvey Dent flippin’ his coin. “You either die a hero”—or limp outta there smilin’. Hah! Reckon I’d tell Nolan to film *that* next—erotic-massage, Gotham-style. Chaos, oil, and me sippin’ in the corner. “I drink and I know things”—and mate, this shit’s wild!

The Art of Erotic Massage

The vibe here is mellow, kinda like "A Serious Man": like, "This is not my day, eh?" but then, bam, hi-ho! I'm walkin' Main St. where you'll find old Brick & Bone Pub, a chill spot with neon lights. The streets, man—they're twisty, jumbled, like a crazy maze. Over on Maple Drive, near the old clock tower, I often ease my clients' stressed muscles after a long day. Not to mix up, but that clock tower rings like a cosmic reminder, "Everything is just fine, ok, really fine", y'know?

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