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I was 23, broke and desperate, barely getting by on my office salary, so I changed professions. After high school, I left my small hometown in Nova Scotia to study aviation, and later ended up in Australia. In a distant continent, where no one knew me, I decided to try stripping. But it was exciting. The strip club was my playground—a place where I could shamelessly flirt and get attention from men without having to perform sex acts. At 23, I moved back to Toronto and got a desk job.


My job at an Etobicoke rub-and-tug




My job at an Etobicoke rub-and-tug
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Got a rub n tug
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Welcome to the first instalment of my new years resolution to write you more letters. Slightly unsure of where these emails will go over the coming months, but lets just start the new year off on a classy note then shall we: How to spot a rub and tug massage parlour. A few days before Christmas I accidentally found myself in a rub and tug joint hoping to get a legitimate massage. I so desperately needed a massage that I ignored all of the warning signs. I'd like to share them with you so you can avoid the same horrible experience I had.

«Females are such deceitful creatures lmao female favor is wonderful felle.»
«Can you fuck me better??»
«Dude looks like Meatloaf Dude looks like Booker T, can you Fuck it suckaa!!»
«Kisses!»