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About Houston

I reckon brothels got a bad rap, y’know? Folks whisper ‘bout ‘em like they’re dens of sin, but me, I see ‘em diffrent—kinda like a stage where life plays out raw. I heard tell of this one joint, back in Nevada, legal as Sunday church but twice as fun—called the Moonlite Bunny Ranch. Them gals there, they ain’t just sellin’ a tumble, they’re givin’ lonely souls a lil’ warmth. Made me happy, thinkin’ ‘bout that—some cowboy, hat in hand, findin’ a smile he ain’t had in years. But lord, it burns me up too—them high-and-mighty types judgin’ them girls! Ain’t nobody perfect, ‘cept maybe my wigs, ha!