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About Chicago

Once had this bird—pro masseuse, yeah?—and she’s whisperin’ all sultry, “Relax, Mr. Bond.” Nearly lost it, mate—thought I’d died and gone to spy heaven! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares? It’s bloody brilliant—releases tension you didn’t know you had. Them nerves light up, zap zap, like a villain’s laser trap. Oh, and the oils—smell like sex and danger, my kinda mix. Ever tried it with a twist, like hot stones? Fuck me, that’s next-level—shocked me silly first time.