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About Pretoria

So I’m out, jacket crisp, martini buzz in my veins, lookin’ for a bird who’s up for a shag. Not just any tart—gotta be sharp, gotta have that spark. I spot this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns the night. “Hey, darlin’,” I say, all smooth, “fancy a spin with 007?” She smirks—fuckin’ smirks!—and I’m like, “Shaken, not stirred, love.” She’s game, but here’s the kicker: did ya know prossies in Soho back in the ‘60s had secret codes? Little winks, scarf colors—shit like that to dodge the coppers. This bird probs knows that history, she’s got that sly glint.

Prostitution

I work as a masseur here, and lemme tell ya, I see all kinds of secrets in these back alleys and posh spas. Everybody lies, right? You think I'm just kneadin' muscles, but I listen too, ya know? The little twists of the neck, the twitchin' smiles... secrets spill faster than a busted tap. I even got a fave spot – Liberton Park. Its winding paths are perfect for a midnight stroll, feelin' the pulse of a city that never admits its scars (and believe me, I've seen plenty) – "all that glisters is not gold."

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