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About Larissa

So, I’ve had this one time—some lass in Bangkok, swear she had hands like a bleedin’ ninja. Little known fact: them Thai massages? Started centuries back, monks loosening up, but the erotic twist? That’s the underground spice, mate. She’s kneading me, I’m thinking, “This is living—fuck yeah!”—pure bliss, muscles melting, tension gone. Happiest I’ve been since I nabbed that villain in ’07. But then—bam!—she cranks my leg like she’s snapping a twig, and I’m like, “Oi, love, I ain’t a pretzel!” Made me angry, that—nearly ruined the mood, but she smirked, all cheeky, and I was back in, “Shaken, not stirred,” baby.

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Then, I bump into my buddy Alex. He’s always got some wild story. Today, he tells me he’s trying to start a band. A band! In Aigaleo! I’m like, “Dude, you can’t even carry a tune!” But he’s all hyped, talking about gigs at local bars. I can’t help but laugh. “You’ll be the next big thing, man!” I say, totally sarcastic. But hey, who knows? Maybe he’ll surprise us all.

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