Freya Alovera Brothel ❤️

About Malaga

Alright, listen up, you lot—brothel, yeah? Filthy coin-grabbing dens, stinking of desperation. I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, and I see through the perfumed lies. Cold disdain? Hah, it’s my bread and wine. “I choose violence,” I’d snarl, torching the lot if I could. Brothels ain’t just beds and moans—they’re goldmines, sneaky as hell. Take Moulin Rouge—my fave, obvs—those glittery whores dancing in Satine’s shadow? Same game, diff’rent dress. “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn”—hah!—is coin rules all, love’s a jest.

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Man, I’ve had some wild sessions counseling here. Women pour their hearts out along the silent lanes of Avenida Esperanza. Every word, every tear, makes me reflect, like a scene straight outta Moulin Rouge! "No regrets, just passions." I hear that echo, you know? I sometimes chuckle, thinkin' "I am your father" in a weird, soft tone.

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