Addison Waycross Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Oi, listen up, you lot! This brothel business—filthy word, innit? Slithers off the tongue like some lowborn scum. I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, and I reckon it’s a cesspit of desperation. Cold disdain? Oh, I’ve got buckets of it. “I choose violence,” I’d say, if some grubby fool tried dragging me near one. Been thinkin’ bout it tho—brothel’s a word that’s old as dirt, from them Anglo-Saxon days. Meant “ruined woman” or some such rot—harsh, right? Makes me smirk, how it’s all tangled up in shame and coin.

What is a brothel?

And, oh man, the local art gallery on Broad Street. Its windows glowed with intimate art pieces. You could swear the canvases were whisperin’ sensual secrets. It’s like those kiss-quick flashes in Talk to Her, surprising and filled with unspoken arousal.

Waycross D.A. testifies in Jackie Johnson trial