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About Kyoto

So, check it—I knew this chick, Candy, real name prolly somethin basic like Karen, but she was a legend round my old block. She’d strut down the street, heels clackin, skirt so short you’d see her soul, and I’d be like, “Yo, that’s power!” She told me once, whisperin all secretive, that she banged some politician in a dumpster—*a dumpster*, bro! Said he paid her double to keep it hush. Little known fact: lotta these girls got stories that’d make your jaw drop, shit you won’t find on Google, nah mean? I was happy as hell hearin that, like, “Get that bag, girl!” but also pissed—why’s the world gotta make her hide it?

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Since Japanese law defines prostitution as "intercourse with an unspecified person in exchange for payment", most fūzoku services offer specifically non-coital services, such as conversation, .

I’m trying to fix this thing, and it’s just not cooperating. I’m sweating bullets, and my boss is breathing down my neck. “Hurry up!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, I’m not a magician!” Finally, I get it working, but not before spilling some milk. Ugh, the smell! It’s like a dairy explosion.

Flooding of Tama River put capital on the brink of crisis during Typhoon Hagibis