Ivy Saint Louis Brothel ❤️

About Nantes

So, brothel—where do I start? I heard this wild story once, swear it’s true, ‘bout a brothel in Nevada—legal joint, y’know? Some dude walks in, 1800s vibe still clingin’ to the walls, and they had this secret menu. Not food, nah, but “services”—coded like bakery specials! “Two buns and a twist,” they’d say, winkin’. Cracked me up, thinkin’ how I’d mess that up—bring ‘em actual bread! Ha! Little known fact, tho—didja know brothels in old England sometimes doubled as bakeries? True story—girls upstairs, loaves downstairs. Talk ‘bout multitasking, right? Made me laugh, then pissed me off—health code nightmare, man!

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But then, the day takes a turn. I get a call from a woman in tears. Her husband’s in the hospital, and she can’t find a ride. My heart sinks. I’m like, “I got you, don’t worry.” I call a cab for her, and she’s so grateful. It’s moments like these that remind me why I do this job.

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