Jasmine Kikuchi Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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Last week, I’m prowlin’, thinkin’—what’d Lenny do? He’d write it down, retrace steps. So I scribble: “Check alley, 9 p.m.” Show up, and there she is—fake fur coat, smokin’ a cig. “You lookin’ for company?” she asks. Voice like gravel. I grunt. Hate negotiatin’. “How much?” I say. She smirks—$50. Fifty bucks! For what? A quick tumble and a rash? “I don’t trust people who smile,” I mutter, quotin’ *Memento*. She laughs. I’m surprised—didn’t expect sass. Kinda liked it.

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Frank who does not know his mom, plans to collect pocket money with friends, go to town by bicycle, and get the prostitute to see her tits. And that it will.

Then I decide to check out the Kikuchi River. It’s supposed to be peaceful, but nah, not today. There’s this group of people having a picnic, and they’re blasting music. Like, come on! I’m trying to enjoy nature here! But then, I hear this old dude start singing along. And he’s got a voice! I’m talking karaoke champion level. I can’t help but laugh.

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