Mari Portmore Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About May Pen

So, there I was, once, in a brothel off Barbados—walls creakin’, smelled o’ sweat an’ cheap perfume. Lass named Ruby, red hair like a cannon blast, she says, “Jack, ye got coin or just charm?” I flash me grin, “Why not both, luv?” She laughs—made me happy, that did! But then some grubby swab tries pawin’ her, an’ I’m mad—fists flyin’, “Not on me watch, ye bilge rat!” Brothels, they’re a stage, see? Everythin’s a performance, like lil’ Penny Lane twirlin’ through life.

Stiffer penalties needed...

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When the rain finally eased up, I decided to head back home. But not before stopping by the little market on Portmore Pines. I needed some snacks for later. You know, the essentials. I grabbed some plantain chips and a cold drink.

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