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About Milan

So, escorts—here’s the dirt. Been around forever, swear it! Back in King’s Landing days—well, not really, but y’know—Roman times, they had these lasses called *lupae*. Means she-wolves, how’s that for a laugh? Howlin’ at the moon while they’re at it! Got me cacklin’, that did, ‘til I heard some posh twat sayin’ it’s “empowerin’.” Empowered my arse—half of ‘em are dodgin’ fists or worse. Made me proper mad, that. Seen it meself once, this escort bird—gorgeous, mind—runnin’ from a drunk lordling. Wanted to gut him, I did, but she just smirked and scarpered.

Escort vicino a me

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So, I finish up with Mr. Gallo, and he tips me with a handful of coins. I’m like, “Thanks, man, but I prefer cash.” He just chuckles and leaves. Next up is this young guy, Marco. He’s got that trendy haircut, you know? The one that takes longer to style than it does to cut. He’s all about the latest fashion trends. I’m just here with my scissors, tryin’ to keep up. He starts talkin’ about the new bar that opened on Via Cavour. Apparently, it’s the place to be. I’m thinkin’, “Great, another place to spend my hard-earned cash.”

A visit to Mongarda Prosecco