Taylor Savage Brothel ❤️

About Chicago

Brothels, man, they’re wild. Been around forever—fact is, ancient Rome had ‘em legal, called ‘lupanars,’ wolf dens, ‘cause the girls howled for clients. How’s that for a giggle? Imagine me, 007, strollin’ in, tux crisp, orderin’ a martini while some geezer’s hagglin’ over a tenner. Shaken, not stirred, obviously—keeps me sharp when I’m scopin’ the room. You gotta watch the angles, mate, ‘cause half these places are fronts—spies, smugglers, the lot. Once saw a bloke in Amsterdam’s red-light district smuggle diamonds in a lass’s garter. Cheeky sod.

Brothels and Bottles Series

Video. Home. Live.

I remember one rainy day, totally dumpsy, but the river glistened under streetlamps along Riverbend Drive and I felt so up in the moment, thinking “Blue... blue... is the warmest color” as the raindrops drummed on the leaves. Pure poetry, bruv, pure poetry.

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