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About Sheffield

I got mad once—oh boy—saw this guy hagglin’ with her like she’s a flea market rug. Made my blood boil! She’s a person, not a damn bargain bin. But then—happy twist—saw her laugh at some john’s dumb joke, and I thought, “She’s got spirit!” Surprised me, y’know? Thought they’d all be jaded. Guess not. Another time, heard this wild story—some gal in Amsterdam worked the red-light district dressed as a nun. A nun! Clients went nuts—talk about niche marketin’!

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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 .

I love me job, as a masseur I see ‘em come as lumps of gravel, but turn ‘em into soft bread, yah? Clients share their gossips, their mad secrets, all while I smooth their knots – kinda poetic like “even in the abyss, beauty lies”, from dat movie, The Return. I tell ya, life chugs on like a faulty train sometimes, but that’s da charm here.

Life of jailed Welsh language campaigner remembered in new book