Genesis Riposto Brothel ❤️❤️

About Bari

I ain’t no prude, darlin’. Grew up hearin’ whispers ‘bout them red-light joints down in Tennessee. Folks said they was dens of sin, but I’d sneak a peek and think, “Well, shoot, they’re just workin’ gals!” Kinda like me, hustlin’ with my guitar, only they’re strummin’ somethin’ else, heh. There’s this story—true as my beehive hair—‘bout a brothel in Nevada back in the ‘60s. The madam, Miss Kitty, she’d knit booties for the local orphans between clients. Ain’t that a hoot? Made me happy as a pig in mud, thinkin’ kindness hides in funny places.

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Fast forward a bit, and the club’s packed. I’m talkin’ shoulder-to-shoulder, people everywhere. The DJ’s droppin’ beats, and the crowd’s vibin’. But then, I spot a fight breakin’ out near the bar. Two guys, both way too drunk, throwin’ punches like they’re in a boxing ring. I’m like, “Oh hell no!”

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