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About Leuven

Back in my Texas days—yeehaw!—I heard whispers bout secret brothels in ol’ oil towns. Roughnecks blowin’ cash, playin’ cards, gittin’ frisky. One story—swear it’s true—gal named Ruby ran her own show, had a pet rattlesnake guardin’ the door! Ain’t nobody messin’ with Ruby—tougher’n a two-dollar steak! Surprised me so much I near fell off my horse—well, my chair.

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Man, I gotta say, my profession’s given me eyes in the back of my head. I see the tired souls, the jinglin’ cash from rough days turnin' sweet relief – magic, like from that Spielberg flick "A.I. Artificial Intelligence." When I massage ya, it’s like I'm whisperin’ “I’m not a robot, I feel!” (Yeah, I know it's not the exact line, but you get me, right?) Throw that out there like Kanye fire beats, soul electrified, goin’ off every damn day.

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