Camila Hojo Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Saitama

Findin’ a prostitute ain’t rocket science, but it’s a freakin’ art. You don’t just stroll up, nah, it’s a dance—eye contact, nods, cash flashin’. I’d be pissed, tho—half these girls lie worse than my patients. “Oh, I’m clean,” they say. Sure, and I’m a ballerina. Everybody lies, right? Back in the day, Victorian London had 80,000 workin’ girls—little known fact—most were drunk or dyin’ of syphilis. Now? Same game, diff tech. They’re on apps, X posts, lurkin’ in DMs. Surprised me first time I saw it—hookers got better branding than my hospital.

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After lunch, I had to meet another client at the Hojo City Hall. This lady, Mrs. Sato, is super sweet but also super indecisive. We’re going over her retirement plan, and she’s like, “What if I want to travel?” I’m thinking, “Well, you gotta save first!” But she’s got this dreamy look in her eyes, talking about Paris and Rome. I’m like, “Lady, let’s focus on Hojo first!”

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