Lydia Helpman Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

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Now, I ain’t judgin’—live and let live, fam—but some shit pisses me off. Dudes struttin’ in, actin’ like kings, leavin’ girls hollow-eyed. Makes me wanna yell, “Man, you ain’t no hero!” Then there’s the girls—some laughin’, some cryin’, some just numb. One time, heard a story ‘bout a madam in New Orleans, 1800s, who spiked the whiskey with opium—kept the johns comin’ back, droolin’ like fools. Smart hustle, but damn, that’s cold. Surprised me, tho—thought I’d seen it all.

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Then I head over to the park, the Helpman Park, you know? It’s got this cute little pond. I sit on a bench, watching ducks do their thing. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by, chasing a soccer ball. He kicks it, and guess where it lands? Right in the pond! The ducks freak out, and I’m cracking up.

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