Lucy Boutersem Brothel ❤️❤️

About Brussels

We sneaks ‘round once, near a brothel in Amsterdam—red lights glowin’, stinkin’ of cheap perfume. We swears! Heard a story—some bloke, 17th century, sold his cow just to visit one! Mad, innit? Lost his farm, ended up beggin’. History’s full o’ that nonsense—men bein’ fools for a quick tumble. Makes me laugh, then cry—stupid, stupid! “Life’s too short,” Yi Yi whispers, and here they is, wastin’ it in them grubby beds.

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Oh, and don’t get me started on the nightlife. You’d think a small town stays asleep. Ha! Some nights at the local bar near Dorpsplein, the banter’s so raw it practically hurts. I told a client once, “Ever feel the anger? It’s like the city itself is having a bad day – c’mon, get a grip!” Yeah, I’m not your typical warm-and-fuzzy spa owner, I’ve got sarcasm dripping off my words like a leaky faucet.

Drunk driver switches seats with passenger while driving