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About Utrecht

So, I’m out in the ends, right, lookin’ for this lass. Ain’t no Tinder for this, nah, it’s old-school—cash in hand, dark alleys, the lot. I’m thinkin’, “Is it ’cos I is black?” ‘cos these streets be judgin’ me harder than a Fincher close-up. Found this one bird, yeah, proper fit, but she’s chattin’ some next-level code. “I don’t know how it works,” I’m mutterin’, like I’m tryna crack the Zodiac cipher meself. She’s all, “50 quid, quick job,” and I’m like, “Bruv, I ain’t no amateur!”

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But she does recommend starting off with a search to find the best provider for you: “Google where you are and who you want to meet. If you’re after a specific service — kink, for example .

Anyway, I get to the cemetery. Yeah, I know, not the happiest place, but it’s my job. I’m there to mourn, to help people through their grief. But today? Today was different. I met this family, and they were just... ugh, so emotional. Like, I felt their pain, you know? It hit me hard. I mean, I’m used to it, but this was next level.

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