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About Norrkoping

But nah, she’s all biz. I ask, “How much, sugar?” She smirks—ooh, that smirk made me mad! Like, who’s she to judge me, right? She says, “50 bucks, blondie,” and I’m like, “50?! For what—two minutes?” Made me wanna scream, but I laughed instead—happy, surprised, all at once. Did ya know—fun fact—back in the ‘50s, gals like her charged a damn nickel? Inflation’s a bitch, huh!

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We start driving, and he’s all over the place. I mean, we’re swerving like we’re in a dance-off. I’m yellin’, “Stay in your lane!” He’s like, “What lane?” I’m about to lose it. But then, we hit the roundabout at Torggatan, and he nails it! I’m like, “Whoa, where’d that come from?”