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About Phoenix

Favorite moment? When she spat at some rich prick’s shoes—gold! Made me happy, that defiance. Surprised me how young she looked, too—life ages you fast out there. Exaggerating? Maybe, but who cares—she’s a legend. “Day fades, night comes”—like her shifts, endless. Rough, real, no fairy tales. Hate the sanctimonious types, preaching purity—she’d eat ‘em alive. Quirky thought: bet she’d ride that Turin horse better than the old man. Ha! Whore’s a survivor, period.

What Really Happens at a Sex Party? 8 Women Share Their True Stories

Welcome to Doing It, a column where sex educator Varuna Srinivasan explores the deep connections between sex and emotions. This month, we examine the art of the sex party — .

Every corner’s got history. Like, Downtown’s our pride. Caffè Amore on 9th had the best espresso. And oh, Midtown’s a bomb. The local landmark – The Bleu Clock Tower – stands tall like in some Wes Anderson flick. “The Grand Budapest Hotel” vibes, baby! (I gotta quote: “Keep your hands off my pastries!” Anywhere near those sweets).

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