Delilah Mishima Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Osaka

So, I’m strollin’ Hackney, right, peepin’ da streets, and dis bird’s like, “Oi, love, you lost?” I’m like, “Nah, fam, I’m huntin’!” She laughs, proper cackle, and I’m finkin’, “Is it ’cos I is black?” ’Cos dese posh twats in Mayfair ain’t clockin’ me, but here? I’m da don, innit. Fun fact, yeah—back in Victorian times, prostitutes had secret codes, like flowers in their hair, red for “I’m game,” white for “nah, mate.” Mad, right? History’s wild!

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The person was a sex worker, and Mishima picked them up at a gay bar with the intention of having something longer term, but they ended up only.

“Yo! Turn it down!” I shout. They look at me like I’m the Grinch. One of ‘em, this dude with a crazy haircut, goes, “Chill, man! We’re just vibin’!” Vibe? More like a noise pollution disaster! I’m about to lose it, but I take a deep breath. “Look, I get it, but there are kids here. Keep it down, alright?” They roll their eyes but finally turn it down. Phew!

Yukio Mishima: A Troubled Literary Genius | Spotlight