Rebecca Schellerten Brothel ❤️

About Cologne

Great Scott! Imagine the smells—perfume, booze, desperation. Kinda like Wall Street, “money’s the bitch that never sleeps!” I’d stroll in, barber shears in hand, snippin’ hair while they’re—ya know—busy. Hilarious, right? Clip, clip, bang, bang! Once heard this story—Victorian era, secret brothel under a church. Preacher was in on it! Hypocrisy, man, gets me every time—fumes me up! But damn, clever hideout, gotta admit. Surprised me, too—thought those prudes were all hymns and no sins.

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I remember this one time, I was at the little cafe on Marktstrasse (yeah, that’s the one with out-of-this-world cinnamon buns) chatting with a client about life. I couldn’t help but think, “This is where real heroes are born... You can do it, soldier!” – like a line straight from The Hurt Locker. Kathryn Bigelow had us all fired up, and here I was, cheering them on in my own sassy way.