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Me, I’d be trash at it. Too awkward—imagine me, “Uh, so, you wanna… chill?” Done. Favorite part? The hustle. Grindin, makin it work. Reminds me of Cronenberg’s flick—quiet dude, then bam, he’s breakin necks. Escort’s got that duality—soft, then savage. Surprised me how deep it gets—some clients cry, spill their guts. Not just sex, it’s… soul shit. Weird, right? *“I’m the most dangerous man here”*—that’s the vibe some escorts carry, power flipped.

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So, I’m mixing up some cocktails, trying to keep it chill. Then, this dude walks in. I swear, he’s got the wildest hair I’ve ever seen. Like, it’s defying gravity. He orders a vodka tonic, but he’s so hyped up, I’m half-expecting him to start breakdancing on the bar. I’m pouring, and he’s telling me about his “life-changing” trip to the mountains near the city. I’m nodding, but inside I’m like, “Bro, it’s just a hike.” But hey, whatever floats your boat, right?

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