Angelina Saeffle Brothel ❤️

About Norrkoping

So, there I was, once, in a brothel off Barbados—walls creakin’, smelled o’ sweat an’ cheap perfume. Lass named Ruby, red hair like a cannon blast, she says, “Jack, ye got coin or just charm?” I flash me grin, “Why not both, luv?” She laughs—made me happy, that did! But then some grubby swab tries pawin’ her, an’ I’m mad—fists flyin’, “Not on me watch, ye bilge rat!” Brothels, they’re a stage, see? Everythin’s a performance, like lil’ Penny Lane twirlin’ through life.

Seattle's Underground Sex Economy Explained, In Five Points

So, I’m walking down to the office, and I pass by the canal. It’s kinda pretty, I guess. The water’s glistening, and I’m like, “Wow, nature!” But then I see a bunch of ducks just chilling. And I’m thinking, “Why can’t I be a duck?” No worries, no deadlines. Just quacking around.