Olivia Gilberts Brothel ❤️

About New York City

*We come in peace* (robotic tone). Yo, so I’m a bailiff, right? Out in the mines, diggin’ ore, sweatin’ buckets. But brothel? Man, that’s a whole diff galaxy! Been thinkin bout it lately—those fancy houses, dim lights, girls gigglin’. Kinda reminds me of “The Royal Tenenbaums”—all that messed-up family vibe, but with more glitter and less daddy issues. Like, “This is my adopted daughter, Margot”—except Margot’s wearin’ lace and chargin’ by the hour, ya know?

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Now I'm a spa owner, right? I spend me days massaging away the sea salt stress and all that blah blah... and I’ve seen the city in ways no landlubber would. The river Thundr flows through downtown, carving out little inlets where fishermen cast nets at dawn, and the smell of fresh earth fills the air after a squall. Man, that never fails to mak me heart thrash like a wild parrot. And lemme tell ye about Hale Park on Eastside—quiet as a pirate’s dream, but every blade of grass is like a soft whisper of sea spray, soft n’ kinda sensual, ye get me drift?

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