Claire Manhasset Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Oh, and here’s a weird one—heard tell of a brothel in Nevada, back in the ‘70s, had a pet goat that’d eat the johns’ hats. Swear on my mama’s biscuits, that’s real! Prostitute life’s got them oddball stories, keeps ya guessin’. Love that chaos, man, keeps me tickled. “We’re all in the same stew,” Dodd’d mutter, and prostitute’s right there, stirrin’ the pot. Git-R-Done, y’all—she ain’t perfect, but who is? Tell ya what, next time I see one, I’m tippin’ my hat—respect, darlin’!

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Now, let’s talk parks. Manhasset Woods Park is my little secret oasis. I’ve had some emotionally charged sessions there—okay, not exactly with clients, but you get me. I’m a sexologist; I see all the raw, unfiltered human passion and neuroses. That park? It’s like therapy without the couch, you know? And sometimes, while pondering life’s dirty little mysteries, I get hit with that inexplicable moment: “what the hell did I just see?” in genuine awe. Like in the movie, "The Act of Killing." It’s surreal.

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