Rebecca Takizawa Sex Escort ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Oi mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, fictional, suave, “shaken, not stirred.” Escort, yeah? Let’s chat about that gig. I’m thinkin’—escort’s a wild ride, innit? Like in *Caché*, that flick I bloody love—Haneke’s 2005 masterpiece. “Who’s watchin’ who?”—that’s the vibe escorts got. Always some geezer lurkin’, judgin’, like those creepy tapes in the movie. Escort’s a hustle—fancy birds or blokes, dolled up, struttin’ for cash. Ain’t just sex, nah—sometimes it’s arm candy, sometimes it’s chat. Surprised me, that! Thought it was all shaggin’—turns me out, some punters just wanna talk. Lonely sods.

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So, I’m trying to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like a pressure cooker. I’m sweating bullets. I mean, it’s Takizawa, not the Sahara! I’m trying to keep the vibe up, cracking jokes, but my brain’s like, “Focus, man!”

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