Elizabeth Ilion Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Oi mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, I’m a carpenter now, yeah? Hammerin’ nails, sawin’ wood, all that jazz. But let’s talk real shit—findin’ a prostitute. Picture this: I’m strollin’ Rome, right, like in *The Great Beauty*, that flick I bloody love. “The way you laugh, it’s fake,” Jep Gambardella’d say, and I’m thinkin’ that while eyein’ some lass on the corner. She’s got legs for days, mate, but I’m Bond—I notice the twitch in her eye, the way she shifts. Tells me she’s new, probs scared shitless.

So you want to book a sex worker?

Look, I know it might sound all over the place, but that’s what makes Ilion so crazy and cool. I keep seein’ couples hand in hand at sunrise, kids playing with unbridled joy in City Square, and elders recollecting the good old days by the worn-down murals on Victory Boulevard. It keeps me inspired, even when therapy sessions get heavy.

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