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Oh, and here’s a zinger—some escorts got code words, like “roses” for bucks. “Gimme 200 roses,” they say, all sly-like. Cracked me up when I heard it—thought they was talkin’ ‘bout flowers ‘til I caught on. Sneaky lil’ devils! Ties right back to that movie—“The skin comes off,” she says, and bam, truth’s out. Escorts peel back layers too—just not how ya think.

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. Like, biblical rain. I’m sprinting down the street, trying to dodge puddles. I’m soaked, and I’m laughing at myself. “What a day, right?” I think. I finally duck into a café on Vulytsia Kostiushka. I’m dripping everywhere, and the barista gives me this look like, “Really, dude?”

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