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About Los Angeles

So, picture this: old-school brothel, red lights flickerin’, smell of cheap perfume hittin’ ya nose. I’m talkin’ 1800s vibes—did ya know back then, some madams ran empires? Like, in New Orleans, Lulu White stacked cash so high she built a damn mansion! Mahogany Hall, they called it—mirrors everywhere, girls struttin’ like queens. Blows my mind, man. Power in a world that’d spit on ‘em otherwise. Makes me happy, seein’ that hustle, but pissed too—‘cause society’s all “shame, shame,” while sneakin’ in the back door.

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I gotta say, runnin’ a massage joint here gives ya a front seat view. I see every fuckin’ secret, every whispered confession. Clients let their guard down and trust you with their souls, all while I’m just tryin’ to ease their tension before the world gets too heavy. And ya know what? It’s kinda poetic. Like when the movie goes, “All is loss, yet all is beauty,” I hear that every day on Bedford Ave.

The Girls Are Doing ‘Rocky Horror’ In Bushwick