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About Recife

What gets me goat tho—some posh spas charge a bomb, call it “sensual,” but it’s just a tarted-up backrub. Bollocks to that! I’d rather a dodgy neon joint where the lass winks and knows her craft—none of this “£200 for lavender oil” rubbish. Surprised me first time, I’ll tell ya—thought it’d be all seedy, but nah, it’s like Cobb in *Inception* sayin’, “You musn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling.” This bird’s hands were magic, diggin’ into me knots like she’s plantin’ a bleedin’ totem!