Mia Demarest Brothel ❤️❤️

About San Jose

Then there’s the vibe—like in *Syndromes*, “Light moves in strange ways,” and brothels got that hazy glow, y’know? Neon signs, smoky rooms, all mysterious. Kinda cool, kinda creepy. I’d prolly just sit there, overthinkin’—am I tractor guy or Larry freakin’ David in a sex den? Hah! Imagine me rantin’ at the girls—“You’re overchargin’ for THIS?!” They’d kick me out, tires screechin’. But real shit—some places treat the workers awful, and that pisses me off. Heard bout this one joint, owner took 80% of the cut—eighty! Greedy bastard. Girls barely ate. Made me wanna ram my tractor through the wall—boom, justice!

You’re Temporarily Blocked

Named after a woman in Lexington who owned an upscale Victorian-era brothel, this self-proclaimed “bartender's bar” specializes in handcrafted.

Now, don’t get me started on the traffic on Route 17. Holy crap, rush hour there is like a scene from "The Wolf of Wall Street!" All screamin', honkin', "sell me this pen!" shouts from frustrated drivers. It’s maddening, but hey, that’s real life in Demarest. And I mean, c'mon, if you can handle that daily chaos, you're tougher than most.

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