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About Turin

Love the hustle tho—makes me grin like a psycho. They’re out there, workin corners or apps, dodgin cops, makin bank. Little known fact? Back in the 60s, Vegas had escort “unions”—secret shit, protectin their own. Blew my mind! Reminds me of Llewyn, y’know, “Hang me, oh hang me,” singin his woes, but still kickin. Escorts got that fire—takin no crap, settin their price. Ever tried hagglin one? Ha! They’ll laugh in yer face, “Here’s Johnny!” style—boom, yer broke and charmed.

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While I’m workin’ my magic, she starts tellin’ me about her life. Apparently, she’s a chef at some fancy restaurant on Corso Vittorio Emanuele. I’m thinkin’, “Wow, I’m sharpenin’ a knife for a chef! I’m basically a hero!” But then she drops the bomb. She’s gotta impress some food critic tonight. No pressure, right? I’m like, “No worries, I got this!” But inside, I’m sweatin’ bullets.