Lydia Rebordosa Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Setubal

What gets me ragin’ tho – them prissy toffs judgin’ the lasses. “The horror you have endured!” – mate, it’s a livin’, ain’t it? Some punters tip big, some are right wankers, but it’s trade, pure and simple. Me fave bit? The madams – tough as nails, runnin’ the show, countin’ coin like wartime generals. “I will have my freedom!” – damn right, they do, in their own way. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but it’s a bloody circus, brothel is – chaos, laughs, tears, all that jazz.

Featured reading for you

First off, I hit the road down Rua da Liberdade. You know, the one that’s always packed with those little cafés? I grab my usual coffee—strong enough to wake the dead. I’m sippin’ it, and boom! I see this guy, old Miguel, trippin’ over his own feet. Classic Miguel. He’s like 80 but thinks he’s still got it. I laugh, but then I help him up. He’s all, “Thanks, kid!” I’m like, “Dude, I’m not a kid!” But whatever, I’m feelin’ good.

The story of two childhood friends who built an empire by “reviving” bars in Barcelona