Charlotte Brookside Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Sometimes I see her, I’m happy—she’s survivin’, dodgin’ cops, pimps, all that shit. Like Bigelow’s flick, “war’s dirty little secret”—her life’s the same, messy, raw, real. But it burns me up, too! Why’s she gotta sell herself short? Makes me wanna grab her, shake her, say, “Get outta this, you’re better’n this!” But nah, she’d probably shank me. Hah! Tough broad.

Home brothel where 'up to eight prostitutes work' upsets Northcote neighbours

SO WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE OWN A HIGH CLASS BROTHEL? Lovely people. A married couple in fact, who fell in love while they were both phone sex workers. They were the most incredible Missing: Brookside.

Let me tell ya about my fave spot: the Crimson Café on 7th Street. It’s not fancy, but it’s got character. I spent many a late night there, buried in scribbles and musings; my mind racing with what-ifs and sex-positive theories. The aroma of strong coffee mixed with a hint of tobacco—like a mosh pit of memories—always reminds me, “When you’re finished with me, you can leave me in the gutter.” Yeah, a twisted Tarantino nod, right?

Brookside’s Flying horse is calling it quits