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Sometimes I’m shocked—shocked!—how much they charge. Thousands a night, folks, thousands! But good for them, stackin’ that paper. “Dogville” line hits hard—“Money talks, always does.” Ain’t that the truth? I’d tell ya, if I wasn’t Donald Trump, maybe I’d try it—kiddin’, kiddin’, or am I? Ha! Sex escort life—dangerous, sexy, chaotic—best soap opera ya never watched! Tremendous, just tremendous!

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So, I’m feeling good, right? I head to my first client. This guy, let’s call him Dave, is a real piece of work. He walks in, and I can tell he’s had a rough night. He’s wearing mismatched socks and smells like he just rolled outta bed. Classic Limehouse, I guess. We start talking, and he’s all over the place. One minute he’s ranting about his ex, the next he’s crying about his cat. I’m like, “Dude, focus!” But honestly, I’m kinda loving it. It’s raw, it’s real.

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