Delilah Saint Pierre Les Nemours Brothel ❤️

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Hrrgh, my precious! Brothels, eh? Dirty lil’ dens, they is—smells o’ sweat an’ cheap perfume. Seen ‘em, I have, skulkin’ round shadows like some sneaky hobbitses. Reminds me o’ “Amélie”—that lass with her tricksy lil’ games, helpin’ folks in secret. “He’s as alone as a castaway,” she’d say ‘bout some sad sod in a brothel, probs. Me, I’m thinkin’—who’s lonelier, eh? The geezer payin’ for a tumble or the bird sellin’ it?

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But then, outta nowhere, my client’s phone rings. It’s some big shot from Paris. They start talkin’ business, and I’m just standin’ there, tryin’ to look tough while also eavesdroppin’. I hear “millions” and “deal” and I’m like, “Man, I hope this doesn’t blow up in our faces.”

Michael A. San Soucie