Ruby Tranby Brothel ❤️❤️

About Bergen

Clarice… a brothel, huh? Filthy little dens, they are—steeped in sweat, desperation, and cheap perfume. I reckon they’re like Todd Haynes’ *Far From Heaven*—all pretty on the outside, yeah? “A perfect life… until it isn’t.” That’s the vibe. Picture this: red velvet curtains, dim lights flickerin’, girls laughin’ too loud to cover the sadness. Brothels ain’t just sex shops, nah—they’re theaters of human mess. Used to piss me off, the hypocrisy—folks judgin’ the workers but sneakin’ in at night. “What’s proper is what’s expected,” right? Bullshit.

The Sex Trade, Part 1: Pleasure, At Any Price

An inconspicuous brothel in Sydney’s inner city has traded hands on a popular street lined with multimillion-dollar houses. Disguised behind the facade of an unassuming terrace home, a .

Finally, I get to this house on Høgåsveien. Nice place, but the client? Total character. He’s like, “Hey, can you make my radio play my favorite tunes?” I’m like, “Dude, it’s not a magic box!” But I smile and nod. Gotta keep the peace, right?

Hull's forgotten shipping family's magnificent mansion