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About Paris

So, escorts—proper fascinatin’, innit? Been around since Roman times—*cave felis*, beware the kitty, they’d say! Fact is, in old London, 18th century, these lasses had “calling cards”—saucy lil’ adverts, handed out in pubs. Cheeky sods even listed “special skills”—like, “good with whips” or “fancy a duet?” Blokes’d stumble home, pockets empty, mutterin’ *mea culpa*. Made me chuckle, that—history’s got some brass!

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But then, outta nowhere, it started to rain. Like, seriously? I thought I was in a rom-com, waiting for the dramatic moment. I ducked into a café on Rue de la Fontaine. Ordered a hot chocolate, and it was like a warm hug. I was chillin’, watching the rain, when this old lady next to me starts chatting. She’s telling me about the history of Vannes, how it used to be a fortified city. I’m like, “Wow, that’s cool!” But inside, I’m thinking, “Lady, I just wanna sip my chocolate.”

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