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About Vasteras

Lemme tell ya, I was hoppin’ ‘round Vegas once—yeah, Vegas, baby! Saw this dame, all dolled up, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owned it. Made me laugh, thinkin’ “How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!”—‘cept she wasn’t so blameless, heh! She winked at me, and I’m like, whoa, slow down, sister! Ain’t my scene, but I watched her work it—smooth as a toon dodgin’ Elmer Fudd. Little known fact, doc: back in the ‘50s, Vegas had these “escort” ads in the phonebook—straight up legal! Ain’t that a hoot?

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And, yes, since buying sex is illegal thete's a big chance you'll get the Prostitution Group on your tail just by floating around the area.

Finally, I get my coffee, and I’m feelin’ a bit better. I step outside, and boom! It starts raining. Like, seriously? I’m in a city, not a rainforest! I duck into a shop on the corner of Järnvägsgatan. It’s a thrift store, and I’m just killin’ time, lookin’ at old clothes.

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