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About Yokohama

I reckon you start online—X posts, coded ads. “Massage, wink wink”—fuckin obvious. Or hit the dives, smoky pubs where eyes linger too long. Reminds me, Clarice, of Mia’s mum screamin, “Get out, you little bitch!”—that chaos, that edge. You feel it when you’re close. Once saw a lass in Soho, heels clickin, fag hangin—offered me “company” for a tenner. Bargain, I thought—laughed my arse off. She glared, I bolted.

So you want to book a sex worker?

I finally made it to the Mihara City Hall. I had a meeting about some economic stuff. Yawn, right? But then, the mayor shows up. He’s this super energetic guy, always cracking jokes. He starts talking about how Mihara’s economy is booming. I’m like, “Really? Where?” I mean, I love the place, but c’mon.

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