Olivia Jamul Brothel ❤️

About Chicago

What gets me riled up? The hypocrisy, yeah. Politicians bangin’ on bout morality, then slippin’ into brothels after dark. Saw one once—fat git, red tie, sweatin’ like a pig. Made me wanna shove a martini glass up his arse, “shaken, not stirred,” obviously. But the girls? Some of ‘em are bloody brilliant—sharp as knives, hustlin’ to survive. Met this one bird, swore she’d been a spy in another life. Maybe she was. “The dream is real,” she winked, and I was half in love, half spooked.

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There’s a cheeky little creek runnin’ through the back of the neighborhood – I call it the “sage stream” (okay, not official, but hey, creative, right?) That creek flows near the outskirts, near some old rustic trails. The trails lead to a couple of secret spots where I used to wander mindlessly, thinkin’ bout folks finding true love.

The casino's been built — Jamul is still fighting it