Hannah Alexandra Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Wellington

Hehehe, me, a sailor, huh? Why so serious? Brothels, man, they’re wild ports! Been to one off Singapore—grimy joint. Girls winkin’, air thick with cheap perfume. Reminds me of *Mulholland Drive*, ya know? “There’s a man… in back of this place!” Dark corners, secrets screamin’. I’m laughin’—manic, HAHA!—cuz it’s chaos! Saw a dame there, eyes like Betty’s. Dreamy, lost, but sharp—cuts ya deep. Paid my bucks, got a story instead. She said sailors smuggle opium in mattresses! True? Who cares—wild, right?

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After that, I’m back in the zone, cutting away. I’m in my groove, and then BAM! The power goes out. Just my luck, right? I’m standing there in the dark, holding a bone saw, thinking, “This is how horror movies start.” But then, the lights flicker back on, and I’m like, “Phew, not today, horror movie!”

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