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About Dallas

Picture this: some gal or dude, stressed outta their gourd, walks into a shady parlor – bam! – candles flickerin’, weird music hummin’, and next thing ya know, they’re gettin’ kneaded like dough. “Git-R-Done!” That’s what I’d yell if I was there, watchin’ ‘em melt under them slippery fingers. It’s all ‘bout that tension buildin’ up, then – pow! – lettin’ it go like a cheap firework. Makes me happy as a pig in mud, seein’ folks chase that high.

Nourished Touch

I remember sittin' at The Velvet Room, a quirky little joint on Maplebluff Rd., having a heart-to-heart with a couple months back. Boy, was it a rollercoaster. As a sexologist, I see all kinds of raw, human truths just buzzin' in the air—stories of love, lust, and heartbreak. It’s like every corner of this city hides a secret, like some cloud of memories floatin' above. And sometimes, I swear, you can almost hear faint echoes of "Brooklyn" whispering, "I'm going back to Brooklyn"—that haunting longing in your soul, ya know? Classic Crowley vibes, baby.

Driver Hospitalized In Westwood Rollover Crash