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About Pecs

So – escort. Not the car, nah. I mean the *ladies*. Or dudes, whatever. Paid company, right? You’re lonely. Or bored. They roll up – BAM. Like Llewelyn Moss. Dodgin’ trouble. But with heels. And lipstick. I saw this gal once. In Reno. Escort gig. Swear she had eyes – like a hawk. Could spot a creep. From a mile off. Made me laugh. “Call it, friendo!” I yelled. She didn’t get it. Pissed me off – c’mon, watch the damn movie!

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After that session, I need a breather. I step outside, and it’s like the universe is playing tricks on me. I see this old lady on the corner of Széchenyi tér, trying to cross the street. I rush over to help her, and she’s like, “I can do it myself!” I’m like, “Okay, lady, but you’re moving slower than a snail!”

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