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About Toulouse

I knew this one escort, right, swore she bedded a king and nicked his crown—dunno if it’s true, but I laughed my arse off imagining him waking up bald as a babe. She was clever, tho, played the game better than most. Makes me happy, seein’ a woman outsmart the fools. But gods, the nerve of some clients—pompous twats actin’ like they own ya. “I choose violence” every time I hear that rubbish—wanna slap ‘em silly.

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So, I grab my coffee and head to my shop on Rue des Écoles. It’s a cozy little place, but man, it gets crazy sometimes. I’m just setting up when this lady storms in. She’s all flustered, waving her broken glasses like they’re a white flag. “I can’t see! I can’t see!” she yells. I’m like, “Chill, lady, I got you.” But inside, I’m thinking, “Why do people wait until the last minute?”

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