Grace Petange Brothel ❤️

About Ettelbruck

So, picture this—I’m scopin’ the place, all cool-like. Girls in tight dresses, blokes sneakin’ round, dodgy deals in the back. Makes me think, “Is this all there is?”—straight outta *Yi Yi*. Used to piss me off, seein’ punters treatin’ ‘em like meat. But then, some lasses, they’re sharp—runnin’ the show, stackin’ quid. That surprised me, mate—proper gobsmacked. One time, heard this yarn ‘bout a brothel in Amsterdam, right? Had a secret room for spies—real 007 shit! Walls with peepholes, codenames, the lot. Bet MI6 nicked that idea.

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So, I roll into work at Le Café de la Gare, right on the main drag, Rue de la Liberté. It’s a cozy spot, but today? It was like a freakin’ circus. First off, I’m behind the bar, mixin’ drinks, and this dude walks in. He’s got a wild look in his eyes, like he just ran a marathon or somethin’. Turns out, he just got off the train from Luxembourg City. He’s all hyped up, talkin’ about some big business deal. I’m like, “Bro, chill. It’s just a drink.” But he orders a whiskey neat, and I’m thinkin’, “This guy’s gonna need more than that.”

Full steam ahead for new Fond-de-Gras season