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About Montreal

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” I’m thinkin’, what’s the draw? Some dude, lonely as hell, swipes right for company. Reminds me of Benigno in the movie, carin’ for Alicia, silent and still. “The best thing is to talk to her,” he’d say, but these johns? They ain’t talkin’. They’re payin’ for silence, or moans, or whatever. Surprised me, first time I dug into it—how damn organized it is. Brothels in Nevada, legal and all, got schedules tighter than my lab’s. Girls clock in, clock out, like it’s fuckin’ Walmart.

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www.facebook.com will allow you to view the massage parlors in your area. Most actual websites for ordering one up have been taken down lately. That’s your best bet. Willing to bet if you fire up Missing: Rustic.

Even the side streets hold secrets. Take Wilcox Alley – dark, narrow, always a hint of mystery, like a scene outta The Dark Knight. You ever been there? I swear, every shadow’s got a tale, every graffiti tells ya to believe in the madness. I get a rush, a whisper in my ear sayin’ “You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” Yeah, that’s Rustic for you – rough, unpredictable, and strangely poetic.

Multi-Vendor Store “Rustic Roots” set to open in Lennoxville