Ada Saint Martin D'heres Brothel ❤️

About Nantes

Yo, so brothel, man—wild spot. I’m sittin there thinkin, “Just keep swimmin,” right? Like Nemo’s pops, stressin over fish, but it’s hoes instead. Place stinks of cheap perfume, desperation too. Some dude in flip-flops runs it—shady vibes. Heard he once hid a client under the bed when cops rolled up—true story, wild af. I’m laughin tho, imagine that fool sweatin, “Mine! Mine!” like them seagulls, claimin his spot.

After what feels like an eternity, I finally get a lead. Some kid saw a guy in a black hoodie running away. Classic, right? I mean, it’s always a hoodie. I’m just about to head out when Leo calls me over. “Dude, you gotta see this,” he says, looking all serious.

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