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Ruh-roh! Yo, listen up, pal—sex escort’s wild, right? Like, I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout “Dogville,” that flick I’m obsessed with. Grace rollin’ into town, all innocent, then bam—everybody’s usin’ her, abusin’ her, like she’s some kinda high-class call girl. “The town’s got its own rules,” they say in the movie, and damn, ain’t that the truth with escorts too? I mean, these girls—guys too—they’re out there, hustlin’, makin’ bank, but it’s shady as hell sometimes.

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First off, I head down Via Roma. Love that street. It’s got this vibe, ya know? Little cafes, people sippin’ espresso, and the smell of fresh bread from the bakery. I’m walkin’ and suddenly, BAM! A pigeon poops on my shoulder. Like, seriously? I’m a stove-maker, not a pigeon target! I laugh it off, but inside, I’m fuming.

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