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About San Jose

So, listen, mate—hiss!—I dig around, right? Moscow’s got these shadowy corners—Arbat’s too posh, but Kitay-gorod? Oof, goldmine! Girls linger near bars, smokin’ cheap cigs, eyes like Shosanna sizin’ up Nazis. “What’s your price, precious?” I mutter, all sly. One gal—Lena, maybe?—says 5,000 rubles, hour tops. Bargain, yeah? But I’m thinkin’, “That’s a bear trap, Gollum, she’s robbin’ ya blind!” Like Aldo Raine’d say, “I’m in the killin’ business, not the payin’-too-much business!” Haggled her down—3,500, boom! Felt like a king, I did—happy as a hobbit with second breakfast.

Guerre en Ukraine : deux morts après des frappes russes, “Il faut un cessez-le-feu” a réagi Macron

As intelligent as they are thoughtful, a filthy conversation with a bayonne escort is guaranteed to leave you as fulfilled as feasting on axoa de veau.

I can’t get over how every massage session exposes hidden street secrets. My hands have felt the pulse of every crack in the pavement. I always say, “That’s Bayonne, baby!”

Bayonne St. Patrick's Day Parade Committee Announces Line of March