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About Mykolaiv

Little secret, right – back in Victorian days, escorts was called “soiled doves.” Ain’t that poetic? Makes me happy, thinkin’ they got fancy names, not just “hookers.” But oi, gets me mad too – people judgin’ ‘em, callin’ ‘em trash. We swears! They’re hustlin’, survivin’, like me an’ my precious ring. Once read this bloke hired an escort just to cry on her shoulder – no nookie, just tears. Surprised me, that did! Shows it ain’t all dirty.

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud crash. I turn around, and it’s this dude on a bike, totally wiped out. I mean, he’s sprawled out on the pavement like a starfish. I rush over, half-laughing, half-concerned. He’s like, “I’m fine, I’m fine!” But his bike? Total wreck. I’m thinking, “Dude, you’re not fine. You just took a dive!” But hey, at least he made my day a bit more interesting.

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