Esme Reading Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Hola, buddy! So, brothel, huh? I’m like, whoa, talk about a wild ride! Picture this—me, Michael Scott, strollin’ into a brothel, thinkin’ it’s like “Memento,” all twisty and mysterious. “I have to remember this!” I’d say, laughin’ my ass off. Brothels, man, they’re like secret clubs—dudes pay for some lovin’, and it’s all hush-hush. Did ya know, back in old Rome, they had these joints marked with a freakin’ penis symbol? True story! Kinda badass, right? Makes me happy thinkin’ how bold they were.

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This made her really uneasy as she had no idea if she offended him, or did something he didn't like, or didn't want to talk about it.

Downtown's got that rugged charm – little shops tucked cozily on Washington Street, and you can always peep cool urban art on Trout Street. I get ya lost in the maze of side-streets, but hey, it's part of the charm. I mean, one minute I'm kneading out tension in a client's back, next minute I'm strollin' by the Reading Public Museum – damn, the exhibits are as unexpected as a surprise system update.

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