Emily Fukuecho Find A Prostitute ❤️

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I’d be all cynical— “You’re not Scarlett Johansson, sweetheart.” She’d smirk, prolly overcharge me—200 bucks for a quickie? Highway robbery! Made me mad—hagglin’ like I’m buyin’ a used car. But then—surprise—she’s got this weird charm. Talks bout her cat, Mitya, back home. I’m like, “What is this feeling?”—straight outta the movie, man. Soft spot hit me—damn, I’m human after all.

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Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a baker in Fukuecho is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. So, I wake up at the crack of dawn, right? The sun’s barely peeking over the rooftops on Kōen-dōri, and I’m already knee-deep in flour. I mean, who needs sleep when you’ve got dough to knead?