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About New York City

So, this brothel—man, it’s a wild joint. Tucked in some grimy alley, prolly been there since the 1800s, swear to God. Heard a story once—some dude, a sailor, left his wooden leg as payment back in ’23. True shit! They still got it hangin’ on the wall, like a trophy. Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ ‘bout that poor bastard hoppin’ out, broke but satisfied. Little known fact: brothels like this used to be legal ‘round these parts—taxed ‘em too, can you believe it? Government was like, “Yeah, get that coin, ladies!”

Practitioners

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The massage parlor, mine precious, sits on a quiet block near Walnut Rd. I see folks pass, shady and bright, so many hidden souls walking by. They come seeking solace, my friend. I smell stress and sweet relief in the air sometimes. And I share secrets: tell them about PCitrus-Springs. They nod, they smile, all snug inside their hearts.

John Sergent Obituary (2024) - Inverness, FL - Citrus County Chronicle