Delilah Poughkeepsie Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Well, helllo there, my tasty friend! Brothel, huh? Let’s dive in—messy, raw, real. I’ve seen ‘em, smelled ‘em, judged ‘em hard. Places where souls drift, like Bob in *Lost in Translation*. “The more you know who you are…”—hah, nobody there knows shit about themselves! Just bodies crashin’, cash flowin’, desperation hangin’ thick. I’d stroll in, all sharp suit and sharper grin, sizin’ up the room. Hannibal Lecter (fictional)—“I ate his liver with fava beans”—sees what others miss. The twitch in a girl’s eye, fear masked as flirtin’. Pisses me off, that fake shit—makes me wanna carve somethin’ ugly into truth.

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I’m a psych, so I spot family feuds and secret smiles, every bloody day. I’ve seen tears on Market St, heard laughter wrapped in madness on Riverbend. Sometimes, I just think – “what do you want from me?” in true Zvyagintsev style... bitter and raw.

Josephine L. Barone