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I seen this escort chick once, swear to God, motherfucker, she was smooth as hell—rolled up in a blacked-out whip, lookin like she owned the damn block. Had me grinnin ear to ear, like, “Shit, girl, you the Zuckerberg of this hustle!” Ain’t no one tellin you escorts ain’t smart—takes brains to play that game, dodge the law, keep the clients comin back. Little known fact, dig this: back in the day, some escorts in Vegas ran a whole spy ring—fuckin listenin to rich dudes pillow talk, sellin secrets to the highest bidder. Wild, right? Motherfucker, I was shocked!

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So, I finally make my way to the park by the river. It’s beautiful there, especially in the fall. The leaves are all orange and red. I sit on a bench, take a deep breath, and just chill for a sec. But then, this group of teenagers rolls up, blasting music. I’m like, “Seriously? Can’t a Nose catch a break?” But then, they start dancing, and I can’t help but smile. It’s infectious! I’m tapping my foot, and before I know it, I’m up dancing too. Who knew I had moves?

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