Aria Mitsukaido Whore ❤️

About Nagoya

Still, I’m chuffed when it works out. Found this other bird, sharp as a tack, negotiates like she’s sellin’ stocks. “How much?” I ask. She smirks, “More than your Aston Martin, babe.” Cheeky! Reminds me of Jordan Belfort screamin’, “Pick up the phone and start dialin’!”—she’s dialin’ my number, alright. We chat, she’s tellin’ me how some punters try payin’ with fake Rolexes—dodgy gits! Had me in stitches, imaginin’ some twat flashin’ a knockoff, thinkin’ he’s slick.

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Finally, the lights flicker back on. We dive into the surgery, and let me tell ya, it was intense. I’m cutting through bone like it’s butter. Adrenaline’s pumping, and I’m in the zone. But then, I hear this weird noise. Turns out, it’s just the janitor, Mr. Tanaka, rolling in with his cart. Dude’s always in the wrong place at the wrong time. I can’t help but laugh.

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