Emily Labuha Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bekasi

So, this tart’s out there, flogging her wares near the dodgy end of town. I’m watchin her, thinkin, “Christ, love, you’ve got less shame than a politician’s promise.” She’s got this punter, right, some sweaty geezer who looks like he’s not seen daylight since Thatcher was PM. She’s all, “Hurry up, darling,” cackling like a hyena, and I’m fuming—cos it’s 3 a.m., and I’m freezin my bollocks off tailing her! Little known fact, yeah? Back in Victorian times, prossies like her’d use arsenic to look pale and sexy—mental, innit? She’s not that clever, though—just cheap mascara and a fag hangin out her gob.

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s a client. Ugh. I’m on my day off! But I answer anyway. They’re having a meltdown about their life. I’m trying to sip my coffee, but I’m also trying to be a therapist. It’s a juggling act! I’m like, “Breathe, you got this!” But inside, I’m thinking, “Can’t a guy enjoy his coffee in peace?”

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