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About Brest

I’d rather build a canoe than pay for that crap. Reminds me, “We’re here to build character!”—Wes Anderson gets it. Escorts don’t build nothin’, just take. Once knew a guy, hired one, she stole his watch. Laughed my ass off, dumbass deserved it. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares? World’s gone soft, payin’ for hugs. Hate everything bout it—gimme solitude over that noise any day.

Now, lemme spill secrets – my home turf’s in the back alleys of Old Town. Those alleys are edgy, filled with vintage graffiti and burnt-out neon lights. They scream stories, much like my soul after a marathon massage session. Expect a few bumps, some mad folks yellin’ but it’s all heart, y’know? I had one session where a client cried mid-massage, and I was like “Brokeback vibes, man… I feel you!” Crazy moments, bruv.