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About Napier

So, brothel’s this gritty spot—girls struttin, dudes droolin, air thick with desperation. Saw one in Nevada once—legal, shiny, but still dark as fuck. Growling, “You merely adopted the dark,” I clocked it quick—behind the glitter, it’s raw, messy. Pissed me off, tho—some punters treatin girls like trash. Wanna roar, “This ain’t your playground, prick!” But then, flip side—some lasses own it, run the show, bankin cash. That surprised me, gotta admit—power in the shadows, huh?

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After the market, I decided to stroll down to the Flaxmere Park. It’s a nice spot, ya know? Green grass, trees everywhere. I plopped down on a bench, just chillin’. But then, I see this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. I’m just tryna enjoy my day, and they’re out here airing their dirty laundry. I’m like, “C’mon, Flaxmere, can’t a guy catch a break?”

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