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About Toulouse

Personal quirk? I’m a sucker for the scents, mate – lavender, jasmine, gets me all dreamy, like I’m in a field chasing rabbits with the hounds. Exaggerate? Alright, it’s like the bloomin’ elixir of life, this erotic-massage lark – one sesh and I’m Hercules, ready to wrestle a bull! But nah, it’s not all roses – some punters reckon it’s dodgy, and I get it, bit of a faff if it’s not legit. Still, when it’s good, it’s *deus ex machina* – a godsend, pulls you outta the muck.

The Great Prostitute and the Beast

I also dig wandering around the Montmartre-like slopes near Rue des Fleurs. Ha, not exactly Montmartre, but it’s got that boho spirit. I remember one night in a pub on that street – the air was thick with secrets and lies, cool music, and that intoxicating feeling of limitless potential. It made me so happy – but a bit mad, too, cause it's wild how people hide who they really are. Sometimes I think, “Qu'est-ce que c'est?” yeah, just like dolly whispers from Talk to Her.

"All concept and no practicality" says commenter about slatted floor