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Honey, listen up, I’m Beyoncé, slayin’ it! Sexual-massage? Oh, it’s a vibe, y’all! Picture this: dim lights, oil slicker than my “Single Ladies” moves. I’m all about empowerment, right? This ain’t just rubbin’—it’s soul-deep, “Slay!” Kinda like in *Requiem for a Dream*, when Harry’s all, “I’m somebody now!”—that’s the high you chase. But real talk, it’s messy too, like life.

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But then, I realize I’ve lost my phone. Panic mode activated! I’m running around like a headless chicken. I retrace my steps, and finally, I find it at the hot dog stand. Phew! I’m not ready to deal with that drama.

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