Lydia Lucas Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

So, erotic-massage—ooof, it’s a trip! Not yer granny’s back rub, naw, this is slow hands, warm oil, tension buildin’ like a dang soap opera. I reckon it’s bout connection—kinda like Bob starin’ at Charlotte across that bar, y’know, “You’re not hopeless.” But here’s the kicker: it ain’t always bout sex, nah! It’s tease, it’s trust, it’s somebody kneadin’ your soul along with yer knotted-up shoulders. How’s that workin’ for ya? I mean, you walk in all tense, and bam—some stranger’s got their paws on ya, and you’re like, “Well, shoot, this feels good!”

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Lucas was strangling Denise. Surely the body in the canal would have signs of strangling round it's neck. If the body is the prostitute Lucas strangled then it too would have signs of.

Man, the Riverfront Park is my fav chill zone. It runs along the Lucas River – glistenin’, flowin’, and perfect for sunset vibes. I always say, “The only thing standin’ between you and your destiny is that billy-bumblerin' self!” – yeah, Wolf of Wall Street style, baby! I even once set up an outdoor spa event near the boatin’ docks, and folks kept shoutin’ “STRATTON!” in excitement. Crazy, right?

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