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About Utrecht

So I’m hyped, right? Text this chick—nerves kickin in. “What’s your name, darlin?” I ask, quotin Jesse. She’s like, “Lola, $200, downtown.” Whoa. Meets me near this sketchy motel—neon buzzin, heart racin. She’s legit, tho—smells like cheap perfume, smirks like she knows shit. “Ain’t no saint here,” she says, laughin. I’m crackin up too—damn, she’s cool. Reminds me of Jesse’s crew, all rough edges.

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The house was owned by Dolly Arthur, a local prostitute, and now showcases her belongings including an antique kitchen with cookbooks from the early to mid.

So, I’m wandering around, trying to find another spot. I end up at this tiny place on the Veenlust. The barista’s super nice, but she spills my cappuccino all over the counter. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” But then she gives me a free muffin to make up for it. Sweet, right? I mean, who can stay mad when there’s free food involved?

Seajets is the new owner of two former HAL ships