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About Chicago

Lemme tell ya, I rolled up to this one spot—shady as hell, smelled like cheap perfume and regret. Girls lined up, smilin’ fake smiles, like they’re tryna sell ya a used car. “For relaxing times, make it Suntory time,” I mutter, wishin’ I had a drink to cope. This one chick, right, she’s got a tattoo of a dragon—swear it moved when she walked! Little known fact: back in the day, some brothels had secret tunnels. Owners’d sneak VIPs in—politicians, gangsters, the works. Found that in some crusty old book—blew my damn mind.