Down a dark street, littered with discarded beer cans and cigarette butts, in the heart of the red light district1) of Squat hole, there's a building. Behind the huge hedge of stinging nettles wrapping the entire block, the building can be seen in all it's glory. The lawn is dry and brown, the shutters need repainting, but it still seems in better repair than most of the surrounding houses. In lieu of a door, there's only a beaded curtain, and a warm, welcoming light leaking through.
Through that doorway lie all manner of carnal delights for the enjoyment of weary travellers, 2)3)for the low, low price of just two cigs, courtesy of
Julia's Squat Squeezes
For the price, you get a lengthy, private session with one of the denizens of that smoky lair, and absolute discretion about your choice and preferences. You can choose from four men, and four women, all equally skilled in the. . .relaxation arts.4)
If you visit all eight patrons enough times, Julia may deign to “Stop by and see what all the fuss is about”. Rumor has it that, if you manage to satisfy Julia herself, then you may gain entry to the Watcher's private cabin on the failboat, for an “easier way of getting charm and favor”5)