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About Vienna

I sidle up, all charm, “Fancy a chat, darlin’?” She’s sussin’ me out, probs thinkin’ I’m a copper or a nutter. “What’s yer poison?” she asks, and I grin, “Shaken, not stirred, obviously.” She laughs—score! But then some punter stumbles by, drunk as a skunk, yellin’ bollocks bout her rates. I’m fumin’—who treats a lass like that? Nearly decked him, but nah, gotta stay cool.

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Sex workers give men a chance of holding on to their sanity, before they are sent back to their world of morality with their urges taken care of.

I can't forget the little park near my apartment on Cozy Crescent. I even had my first breakthrough session with an anxious teen there. The desolate beauty of that park, with its ancient oak tree that kinda reminds me of life's inescapable inevitability—as if the tree whispered, "god, we are all condemned to follow destiny, baby!" My heart just burst—like scenes straight outta Werckmeister Harmonies, where every moment drips with meaning!