Samantha Tilff Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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So, I’m sippin’ my martini, thinkin’, “What a bloody mess.” Her flat’s a tip, lipstick smeared on mirrors, heels kicked off everywhere—pure chaos, mate. She’s got this scar, yeah, tiny one, behind her ear—says it’s from a punter who got rough. “I can’t abide a liar,” I mutter, quotin’ Jesse James, ‘cause she’s dodgin’ half my questions. Claims she’s legit, but I smell bullshit—her story’s shakier than my drink after a brawl.

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