Elizabeth Handa Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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What shocks me? The stigma. Folks clutch pearls, but brothels ain’t just sleaze. Some dude’s lonely, wife’s gone—boom, he’s there. Not my jam, but I get it. Still, the power trips—ugh, grosses me out. Rich jerks actin like kings? Spare me. “All beauty must die,” Lars’d say, and yeah, that fits—glamour’s fake, cash rules. Oh, and fun fact—Amsterdam’s red-light district? Started in the 1300s! Sailors rollin in, hornier than hell. History’s wild.

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So, I finish up with the lady, and she’s thrilled. She leaves, and I’m feelin’ good. But then, BAM! A kid runs in, all wild-eyed. “My mom’s outside! She needs you!” I’m like, “What?!” Turns out, she’s locked her keys in the car. Classic Handa moment, right? I grab my stuff and rush outside.

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