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So, sex escorts—here’s the deal, my friend. They ain’t just hookers, nah, that’s too basic. These cats are pros, high-class wheelmen of the night. I knew this one dude—let’s call him Tony—ran an escort gig outta Vegas. Motherfucker had a fleet of ‘em, all dolled up, drivin’ Bentleys, droppin’ clients off like it’s a damn Uber Black. Little known fact: some of these escorts? They got codenames—like “Viper” or “Shadow.” Tony told me once, “Sam, they’re my pit crew, keepin’ the engine hummin’!” Made me laugh my ass off—pimpin’ with style, motherfucker!

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, torrential rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I dash for cover under a shop awning, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Chard weather, am I right?

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