Emma Flint Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About London

Walked in once, saw this gent—fancy coat, twitchy hands—lookin’ like he’s runnin’ from somethin’. Reminds me o’ Tom Stall in the movie, all quiet ‘til the beast comes out. “How do you live with it?” I mutter to meself, watchin’ him pick a girl. Made me angry, aye—cowardice in a man’s a blight! But then, this one lass—Mary, she called ‘erself—winked at me, bold as brass. “This is my family now,” she says, like she’s claimin’ her ship. Got me laughin’, happy as a clam—pirate spirit in a brothel, who’d’a thunk?

Disclaimer

But then, outta nowhere, the sky opened up. I mean, it was like someone turned on a tap! We both ran for cover, laughing like idiots. I was soaked, but I didn’t care. It was one of those moments, ya know?

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