Megan West Springfield Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

Me, I’d waltz in, all charm—*burdened with glorious purpose*—and they’d be like, “Who’s this posh git?” I’d sip their rubbish ale, smirking. Once saw a brothel in Soho—dodgy place, sticky floors, girls eyeing ya like wolves. One lass, cheeky as hell, says, “Fancy a tumble, love?” I’m like, “Darling, I’m a god, not desperate.” She laughed—good sport, that one. Made me happy, her sass—rare spark in that dump.

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I stroll down Maple and 3rd sometimes, thinkin' 'bout life like I'm starstruck by my own reflections, darlin'. I even met a feller who swore that his heart mended right there on a park bench—how odd, but sweet like my granny’s pie. That’s what our neighborhood's all about: little surprises tucked away behind dusty corners of life.

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