Cora Qiryatshmona Brothel ❤️❤️

About Petah Tikva

So, I sneak in once, right? Dis brothel in Minsk, sketchy as hell. Smell o’ cheap perfume, vodka, sweat—oof, hits ya nose hard! Dis one chick, Natasha, she’s bossin’ it, yellin’ at some drunk fool. I’m like, “Dis gal’s a queen!” Made me happy, ya know? Strong woman, takin’ no shit. Reminds me Jordan screamin’, “Sell me dis pen!”—she’d sell ya whole damn night!

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One evening a drunk Pakistani drove his car into the brothel. Later the driver told authorities the ramming was a protest by a devout Muslim against the debauchery of the house and its .

So, I finally get to the clinic, and guess what? The power’s out! Like, seriously? In the middle of a clinical trial? I’m fuming. I mean, come on! We’re trying to save lives here, not play hide and seek with the electricity. I’m pacing around, thinking about how I’m gonna explain this to my boss. Not fun.