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About Chalcis

So, escort, it’s folks—men, women, whoever—offerin’ company, maybe more, for cash. Sounds simple, right? Nah, it’s wild! Been ‘round forever—ancient Greece had hetairai, fancy gals who’d charm philosophers silly. Bet they’d sass Plato ‘til he cried! *Snort-laugh.* I read this nutty story—some escort in 1800s Paris got hired just to read poetry to a lonely duke. Poetry! Can ya believe? I’d be like, “Pay me to eat bagels!” Makes me happy thinkin’ how escort’s more than stereotypes—some just talk, cuddle, vibe. Ain’t always shady, ya know?

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After the food coma, we get back in the car. I’m feeling good, but then we hit a roundabout on 28th October Street. Nikos panics. He’s like, “Which way do I go?!” I’m screaming, “Just pick one!” It’s chaos. We end up going around three times. I’m laughing, but also kinda scared.

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