Aria Imperial Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Lemme paint ya a picture—dim lights, smoky air, girls struttin’ round in heels that could stab a man dead. An’ they prolly have! Hah! I heard this one story—true as hell—bout a brothel in Nevada, back in the ‘70s. Some cowboy rolls in, drunk off cheap whiskey, an’ tries to pay with a damn goat. A GOAT! Madam wasn’t havin’ it—chucked him out, kept the goat. Fed it carrots ‘til it died fat an’ happy. Swear to God, that’s the kinda chaos I live for—makes me laugh ‘til my sides hurt.

The Empress Messalina

In Egypt, economic historians examine the process of Senate taxation of prostitutes, brothel owners, and clients in order to exploit their sex business.

Imperial’s odd nooks fascinate me. The River Imperius flows near Old Dock Street. It winds like a secret underbelly. I’d walk there at night, reflect on human desires. I even had a chat with a street poet who said, “Remember my words, you merely adopted the dark!” and I laughed, snorting like a madman.

Japan’s imperial palace fires an employee for stealing cash from the household