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So, I’m in Soho—grimy streets, neon buzzin’. This bird, right, she’s leanin’ on a lamppost, skirt hiked up. I’m thinkin’, “What’s her play?”—all theatrical, like Caden Cotard’s mad life. I saunter over, grin sharp as a blade. “Fancy a mischief?” I ask, all charm. She laughs—rough, smoky, real. “Tenner for a quickie,” she says. Tenner! I’m gobsmacked—thought it’d be pricier, ya know?

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Then, I hear someone shout from the crowd. It’s my buddy, Samir. He’s waving a giant flag, yelling, “You got this, bro!” And I’m like, “Thanks, man! No pressure!” But honestly, that pumped me up. I’m feeling like a gladiator now. I charge back at the bull, and it’s like a dance. I’m weaving, dodging, and then—BAM! I land a perfect move. The crowd goes wild! I’m talking cheers, claps, the whole shebang. Best feeling ever!

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