Eliza Radnor Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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So, here’s the deal—brothels ain’t just sex dens, nah. They’re like theaters, man, stages where people play roles. You got your johns, your workers, all actin’ out some script. I remeber this one spot—Nevada, back in ‘98—called the Moonlite Bunny Ranch. Legal, loud, and proud. Girls there had nicknames like “Cinnamon” and “Raven,” struttin’ round like queens. Made me laugh, seein’ em work the room—smooth as hell. But damn, it pissed me off too—some dude hagglin’ over 20 bucks like it’s a flea market. Bro, she’s a person, not a damn rug!

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There was a brothel next door to the Marquis Of Lorne, and there was a communication between the two houses by means of a narrow passage into.

Then there are the odd spots. One time i was workin on some bug fix, when i decided, “Heck, let’s do a lunch run to that hole-in-the-wall diner on Hickory St.” Best burger of my life, honestly! And rly, my heart just warmed as i remembered time passed, like Boyhood said, “Life is shorter than you think.” Lol, profound stuff when you munch a burger, right?

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