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So I sashay over, all Marilyn-like, breathy an’ bold, “Hiya, sugar, got time?” She laughs—deep, husky—says, “For you, blondie, always.” I’m tickled pink! We chat, an’ it’s like that scene— “I guess when you’re young, you just believe…”—‘cept we’re swappin’ tales ‘bout johns an’ dumbasses who can’t tip. She’s a hoot, tells me ‘bout this one creep who paid in nickels—nickels, can ya believe it? I’m dyin’, laughin’ so hard I snort.

Host club debts drive women to street prostitution in Kabukicho

But then, the fire alarm goes off. Total chaos! People are running everywhere. I’m just standing there, like, “Is this real life?” Turns out it was a false alarm. Phew! But my heart was racing.

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