Amelia Teteringen Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

So, this one time, heard a story—some Nevada joint, legal brothel, guy walks in, pays big, just to nap. A NAP! Paid $500 to snooze with a gal. Laughed my ass off, what a sap. “I don’t know how to love you,” Celine’d say to that moron. Me? I’d burn the place down before steppin’ in. Sticky floors, shady deals—hate it. Once read they got secret tunnels in old ones, like in Amsterdam, for sneakin’ out priests. Hypocrites, all of ‘em.

Teteringen Girl

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Then, boom! The phone rings again. This time, it’s a lady from the Kerkstraat. She’s yelling about her neighbor’s dog barking all night. I get it, I really do. But she was going on and on like it was the end of the world. “I can’t sleep! I’m losing my mind!” I’m like, “Lady, it’s a dog, not a rock concert!” But hey, I get it. Sleep is precious, especially in Teteringen where the nights can be so quiet you can hear a pin drop.

Janne Van Brummelen