Megan Shimokizukuri Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Tokyo

I’m imaginin it now—me, all sly, scopin some lass. “Are you alone?” I’d purr, channellin that *Under the Skin* creepiness. She’d prob laugh, thinkin I’m takin the piss. Fair, I’d be takin the piss! But real talk—gotta be sharp. Some places, it’s legal—Amsterdam, Nevada—brothels all posh-like. Others? Cops’ll nab ya quick. Pisses me off, tho—why’s it so taboo? Let folk live, yeah?

Shimokizukuri

But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, seriously? I’m soaked in seconds. I’m running for cover, and I end up in this tiny café on Kizukuri Street. It’s cozy, and the barista is super chill. I order a coffee, and we start chatting. Turns out, she’s a painter. Her art is all over the city. I’m like, “Wow, you’re famous!” She laughs and says, “Nah, just trying to make a living.”