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But here’s a secret, darlin’—some places sneak in “extras.” Oh, I ain’t judgin’, but I was shocked plumb to my toes! Thought, “Dolly, you ain’t that kinda gal!” Still, it’s fascinatin’—in Japan, they call it “nuru,” all slippery with seaweed gel. Seaweed! I’d prob’ly smell like a sushi roll! Makes me laugh ‘til my sides split. “Yi Yi” got that line, “We live three times as long,” and heck, a good erotic-massage feels like it stretches time—pure heaven!

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Main Street is my stompin' ground – always buzzin', always alive. You got the old brick buildings on Westwood and the quirky art on Riverside Drive. Man, them old factories by River Crisp? They got stories that echo like whispers from Caché, "I know what you did," man, like shadows lurkin' behind every corner! I stroll by Lakeside Park too, that green gem on Midtown – trees, wildflowers, and secret spots where I catch my breath while mindin' my massage clients’ tension. And, oh, don't even get me started on Tower Hill. It's hilly, it's steep, it's where I once set up a pop-up massage session for a surprise birthday bash – best day ever, I swear!

Mark E. Morin, 68