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About Bafoussam

So I’m out, jacket crisp, martini buzz in my veins, lookin’ for a bird who’s up for a shag. Not just any tart—gotta be sharp, gotta have that spark. I spot this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns the night. “Hey, darlin’,” I say, all smooth, “fancy a spin with 007?” She smirks—fuckin’ smirks!—and I’m like, “Shaken, not stirred, love.” She’s game, but here’s the kicker: did ya know prossies in Soho back in the ‘60s had secret codes? Little winks, scarf colors—shit like that to dodge the coppers. This bird probs knows that history, she’s got that sly glint.

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A lil’ side note: I be messin' with some apps while wanderin' lonely streets at midnight near the Whispering Woods (yeah, it’s spooky as heck, lol). Sometimes, the city just surprises ya—the vibe shifts, people get real, emotions run high, and my code? Well, sometimes it’s as tangled as my thoughts.

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