Mia Omura Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

Rarrgh! What gets me mad? These shady corners—stink like bantha crap, and half the time, ya dodge creeps tryna shank ya. Happy tho when I found this one gal—sweet, chatted me up like we’re pals. “The intel was solid,” I growled, feelin like a badass. She even knew Wookiee grunts—rare as hell! Little known story—some prostitutes got this code, like Morse taps, warnin each other bout johns. Cool, right? Surprised me shitless first time I caught it—thought she was seizin up!

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We hit the streets, cruisin’ down the narrow lanes of Omura. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom, and it’s beautiful, but I’m too busy thinkin’ about those damn bikes. We check out the local shops on Kōen-dōri. I swear, every shopkeeper has a story. One lady at the bakery, she’s like, “I saw a guy with a red hoodie.” I’m like, “Great, that narrows it down to half the city.”

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