Samantha Boutersem Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Brussels

Back in my Texas days—yeehaw!—I heard whispers bout secret brothels in ol’ oil towns. Roughnecks blowin’ cash, playin’ cards, gittin’ frisky. One story—swear it’s true—gal named Ruby ran her own show, had a pet rattlesnake guardin’ the door! Ain’t nobody messin’ with Ruby—tougher’n a two-dollar steak! Surprised me so much I near fell off my horse—well, my chair.

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Neighbourhoods? Oh, plenty! There’s the rough-and-tumble old quarter near Molenstraat. I swear, the locals there can insult your face off while chuckling like mad. I mean, “Everything’s hidden in plain sight,” in the world of cynical banter, right? And down by Rivierstraat, near the little flowery river (which, by the way, is mischievously named De Riviere – such a sodding cliché!), I’ve had my fair share of pissed off customers after a long day.

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