Delilah Grangemouth Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About London

So, brothels—where do I start? They’re old as sin, legit. Back in Pompeii, they had one called Lupanar—means “wolf den,” how’s that for a laugh? Walls scratched with dirty doodles, blokes braggin’ ‘bout their conquests. Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ they’re all just tossers tryna feel big. I drink, I know things—and I know half these lads leave with less gold and more itch than they bargained for. Gets me riled up, tho—pisses me off how the girls get the short end. Used up, tossed out, no one givin’ a shit. Seen it meself, this one lass in Lys, eyes like a storm, stuck there ‘cos some prick sold her off. Broke me heart, it did.

2. Female Prostitution

After a few more rounds of driving, we finally hit the home stretch. I’m feeling proud, like a dad watching his kid score a goal. But then, we get stuck at a red light on the corner of La Porte Precinct. And wouldn’t you know it, the car next to us is blasting some awful pop song. I’m talking ear-splitting levels of cringe. I’m trying to keep my cool, but I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Is this a driving lesson or a karaoke night?” I joke. She giggles, and I’m like, “See? You’re getting the hang of it!”

ALBA lay wreath at Grangemouth as closure marks a "seminal moment"