Ava Mercer Island Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

So, this one time, Naples, I think—brothel’s in this crusty alley. Sign’s half broke, says “Paridiso.” Paradise, my ass. Inside, it’s dim, sticky floors, red lights buzzin’ like flies. Lady at the desk, smokin’ a cig, looks me dead in the eye. “Ten minutes, sailor,” she says. I’m like, “Cool, cool,” but in my head? “This ain’t Amélie’s café, fam.” No gnome-travelin’ vibes here—just dudes tryna forget the ocean.

Badger State was a popular refuge from law in the '20s and '30s

Mercer Island sits pretty between Lake Washington and Seattle. Yo, its heartbeat is around I‑90—yeah, that freeway zoomin’ by like a venomous snake. Downtown Mercer, man, it's small but fierce. You got Main Street—old school shops, cafes with that oh-so-perfect espresso, and a vibe that screams “I choose violence” like some battle cry.

Bodycam video of Mercer Island cop's drunken night