Rebecca Seto Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Fukuoka

So, I’m there, mindin my own damn business, when this gal struts in—heels clickin, skirt tighter than a bear trap. I’m thinkin, “This is how it starts, huh?” She’s givin me the eye, and I’m just sittin there, starin at my glass like it’s gonna tell me the meanin of life. Findin a prostitute’s tricky—ya don’t just yell, “Hey, who’s sellin tonight?” Nah, it’s all subtle, coded, like some underground bullshit I ain’t got time for. “Plant an idea,” Cobb’d say, right? Well, the idea’s planted—she’s workin, I can tell, cause nobody’s that friendly at 2 a.m. in a dive like this.

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First stop, I hit up the Seto Pottery Museum. I mean, duh, it’s like the heart of the city. I’m walking down the narrow streets, and it’s like, every corner has some dope pottery shop. I’m talking about the kind of stuff that makes you wanna buy everything. But I’m broke, so I just window shop. Ugh, life.

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