Fatima Bucharest Brothel ❤️

About Ploiesti

Walked into one once, undercover, obvs. Girls in skimpy gear, blokes with shifty eyes—fuckin’ wild. Made me angry, y’know? Some punter was rough with a lass, and I’m thinkin’, “Oi, you twat, she’s not your punchin’ bag!” Nearly blew my cover, but I stayed cool—Bond, innit? “Shaken, not stirred,” I mutter, sippin’ a martini at the bar. Little known fact: back in Victorian days, brothels had secret tunnels—escape routes for posh gits caught with their trousers down. True story, dug that up somewhere.

Reader Interactions

In all my travels around the world, I've never seen more aggressive touts for strip clubs and brothels than in the Old Town of Bucharest.

Later, I take a break outside on Strada Smârdan. The air smells like grilled meat from a nearby food truck. I’m starvin’. I grab a kebab, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m munchin’ away, and this old lady walks by. She looks at me, shakes her head, and says, “You’re too young to be so grumpy.” I’m like, “Lady, you have no idea.”

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