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About Turin

Me, I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ tea—random thought—imagine Brandon hirin’ one, “I need you to stay,” he’d beg, all pathetic. Escorts prolly hear that shit daily. Makes me laugh, picturin’ ‘em rollin’ eyes, “Mate, it’s extra for cuddles.” Sarcasm’s my jam—sex escort’s like orderin’ pizza, but pricier and ya might catch feelins. Dr. Evil voice, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,”—that’s what I’d charge to deal with clingy bastards.

Early life

Cardinal-Deacon of San Nicola in Carcere (–); Administrator of Girona escort as is your present habit, but safely, quietly and modestly as.

But then, I step outside, and it’s chaos. Like, what’s with all the traffic on Corso Garibaldi? I swear, it’s like a scene from a bad action movie. Cars honking, people yelling, and I’m just trying to get to work. I’m dodging scooters like I’m in some kind of video game.

Beautiful Italian islands 5 hours from London where cars are banned that feels stuck in time