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Then she says, “50 quid, upfront.” I’m gutted—50?! In ’72, you’d get a shag for a tenner! I’m hagglin, cos Bond don’t overpay, and she’s smirkin like I’m some punter. “Shaken, not stirred, darling,” I say, and she rolls her eyes. We seal the deal, and mate, it’s worth it—better than a Pussy Galore fantasy. “What’s the—worst that can happen?” Doc’d say, and I’m thinkin, gettin caught? Worth the risk.

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www.facebook.com will allow you to view the massage parlors in your area. Most actual websites for ordering one up have been taken down lately. That’s your best bet. Willing to bet if you fire up .

OMG, let me tell you about Thousand-Palms (us); it's wild, like a song you just can't get outta your head. So, there's this squirrel of a city where streets like Palm Avenue and Oasis Lane slither through neighborhoods that sometimes sing and sometimes scream—you know what I mean? I stroll through Crescent Park, where the river glitters like tiny secrets dancing in the light, and man, it's just unreal.

Ballet Folklorico