Rose Sebastian Brothel ❤️

About Chicago

Still, some creeps ruin it. Sleazy parlors givin it a bad rap — ugh, makes me wanna carve em up. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I mutter, picturin their smug faces. But when it’s done right? Heaven, man. Pro tip: warm oil’s the key, none of that cold crap. And if they throw in a happy endin — well, who’s complainin? “What’s left is what matters,” Varda’d say, and I’m left feelin like a king. So, yeah, sexual-massage? Messy, sexy, fuckin glorious. Try it, ya won’t regret it — or maybe ya will, ha!

SLAVES OF THE BROTHEL

So, my dear friend, don’t be expecting some polished tourist manual. Sebastian’s messy, full of heart and absurdities. It’s raw, unpredictable, and as sincere as a drunken confession. Enjoy every gritty, gloriously messed-up moment, and remember what Fish Tank said (or sorta implied): you're never just a spectator. Grab life, or it grabs ya—cheers to that, eh?

Full interview: ‘We’re going to bring him home,’ Sebastian Rogers’ mom, stepdad tell WSMV4