Anna Arncliffe Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

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I mean, picture this—Zen pause—imagine a brothel, late 1800s, Nevada. Miners rollin in, stinkin of dirt, tradin gold dust for a quick thrill. Little known fact: them girls sometimes ran the show. Owned the joint! Hustlin smarter than the dudes. Made me happy as hell—power in unexpected places, y’know? But then—fuck—some stories piss me off. Girls trapped, no way out, like Otilia in the movie, stuck in that hotel room, sweatin bullets. “Be quiet, don’t move.” That’s brothel life for some—dark as shit.

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Oh man, the parks! There’s the little hidden gem—Peachy Park. It's got a crazy tree, old as time, but like, super chill. I used to give massages under its shade. Some folks might think I’m just a pervy masseur, but nah, it's the best therapy for the soul. I left a spot there for a picnic, got caught daydreamin’ ’bout my last gig. I swear, every massage session is like a film scene.

Doctor accused of assaulting two patients