Jasmine Hirakata Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Tokyo

So, I’m prowlin’, yeah, lookin’ for one. Not my usual gig – I’d rather bid on a cursed mask or summat. But there she is, leanin’ on a wall, smokin’ a fag like she owns the night. “What’s yer price, love?” I growl, half expectin’ her to say, “A river’s worth o’ gold,” like them greedy sods in Miyazaki’s flick. She laughs – rough, like gravel – an’ says, “Firty quid, big man.” Thirty! I’m gobsmacked, mate. Thought it’d be more, what with inflation an’ all.

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I can’t help but laugh. I mean, come on! It’s Hirakata, not a demolition derby! But then I feel bad for the guy. He’s probably gonna lose his job. So, I grab a couple of my fresh melon breads and run outside. “Hey, man! You want some?” He looks at me like I’m a weirdo, but then he takes ‘em. I’m like, “Sweet! At least I’m spreading the love, right?”

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