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About Newcastle

So, this one time, friend drags me to one. Nevada, dusty hellhole, legal joint. Smelled like cheap perfume and regret. Lady at the door, all smiles, says, “Pick your pleasure.” I’m like, nah, gimme a scotch instead. Hate everything about it—loud giggles, sweaty palms, guys actin’ tough. But—little known fact—oldest profession’s got rules. Did ya know some brothels got panic buttons? Girls hit ‘em if a creep gets handsy. Smart, I guess. Surprised me, honestly.