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About Osaka

I see her—short skirt, eyes sharp, movin like she owns the block. “She’s got a pistol in her purse,” I think, quotin Robert Ford’s sneaky ass. I’m sweatin, heart racin—half excited, half pissed at myself for overthinkin it. What if she robs me? What if she’s a cop? Man, I’m trippin. “You’re too late, mister,” she says, sassy as hell, and I’m like, “Nah, I’m right on time, baby girl.” She laughs—score! That’s my in.

Can you have sex with prostitutes in Tokyo?

First off, I hit up the local konbini on Kōen-dōri. Grabbed my usual: onigiri and a can of iced coffee. I swear, that coffee is like liquid gold. But then, boom! I spill it all over my shirt. Great start, right? I’m standing there, looking like a total mess.

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