Emma Doonside Brothel ❤️

About Logan City

Me, I’d waltz in, all charm—*burdened with glorious purpose*—and they’d be like, “Who’s this posh git?” I’d sip their rubbish ale, smirking. Once saw a brothel in Soho—dodgy place, sticky floors, girls eyeing ya like wolves. One lass, cheeky as hell, says, “Fancy a tumble, love?” I’m like, “Darling, I’m a god, not desperate.” She laughed—good sport, that one. Made me happy, her sass—rare spark in that dump.

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The place has little quirks. There's that old brick building near the Clynts Rd (yeah, that’s real, no kidding) that basically screams “secret meet-up spot.” Families gather, neighbours chat, and I sometimes sit behind a bush – hehe, Mr. Bean style – just to soak in all that human weirdness. I must admit, it's like bein’ in Amélie’s little world!

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