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About Durban

Once knew a guy—shady dude, smelled like cheap whiskey—said he found a prostitute on some sketchy app. X posts floatin’ round ‘bout it too, links to sites I ain’t touchin’. “Be careful,” I told him, “this ain’t a damn game!” He laughed, said, “Bernie, chill, it’s just business.” Business my ass! Made me wanna scream—where’s the humanity? But, gotta admit, I was curious—how’s it work? Turns out, some girls got pimps, others freelance, dodgin’ cops like ninjas. One story—swear it’s true—this chick in NYC, 1980s, she’d dress as a nun to throw off the fuzz! Hilarious, but damn clever!

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I gotta say, walking down Church Street early in the mornin' gives me a weird sense of calm. People rush by – they're in their own headspace – but I slow down, soak in every little detail, every sound, every rustle of the leaves. And, well, my massage parlor on Riverside Ave? It's a tiny haven. Clients always say, "One more thing..." after a session, just like a wink to Steve Jobs. It's our little secret ritual.

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