Luna Irvine Whore ❤️

About Chicago

Oi, mate, listen up! I’m Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout whores, yeah? Not just any tart, mind you, but the whole damn vibe. Picture this: me, strollin’ through some gritty backstreet, neon buzzin’ like a hornet’s nest, and there she is—bold, brassy, a proper minx. Reminds me of Godard’s flick, *Goodbye to Language*, y’know? All chaotic, sexy, and fucked-up gorgeous. “Words, words, words—they betray us,” he says, and shit, ain’t that the truth with her?

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Yo, yo, yo—listen up my friend, lemme tell ya bout Irvine, ok? This city is wild, man—straight fire. I'm chillin' here as a masseur for years, so I know every nook, cranny, every vibe, ya dig? Irvine is a maze of dope streets like Jeffrey Road where my clients drop off and catch my vibe. I cruise down Campus Drive and feel that chill academic hustle, but also, damn, it pops with street energy, too.

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