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I see this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a pole. “What’s good, baby?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, *damn, she fine*, but I ain’t no fool. “I glean what’s left,” Varda said—well, I’m gleanin’ info first! Asked her straight up, “You clean? You got a man waitin’ to jack me?” She laughs, says, “Naw, sugar, just me.” Happy as fuck, I’m like, “Cool, let’s roll!” Paid her quick—$50, cheap as hell, but don’t tell nobody that. Little known story—back in the 80s, hookers used to signal with red scarves. Ain’t see that no more, tho.

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There are plenty of men in the world who can't find a regular partner, or simply don't want one. Brothels are an outlet for them and this place sounds fairly non-threatening, although 20x in a .

Man, what a day! I woke up in Rydebaeck, and let me tell ya, it was a rollercoaster. First off, I live on Storgatan, which is like the main drag. You know, the kinda street where all the action happens? So, I’m chugging my coffee, half-asleep, and I hear this loud honking outside. I peek out, and it’s a bunch of kids on bikes, racing down the street like they’re in the Tour de France or something. I’m like, “Dude, chill! It’s 7 AM!”