Megan Pendleton Brothel ❤️

About San Diego

Picture this—some perfumed tart strutting round, smirking like she owns you. Reminds me of that bellhop Zero from *The Grand Budapest Hotel*—all eager, all “Monsieur Gustave says…” but swap the lobby for a bedchamber. Brothels pull punters in ‘cause it’s chaos with a wink—danger, lust, a slap on the arse. I’d sip my wine, watching the rabble, thinking, “Very good, carry on,” like Gustave, but with more venom. Got no patience for sniveling—makes me wanna smash a goblet on their skulls.

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