Lina Portmore Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Linstead

Ooh, imagine me visitin’ one—strictly for research, ‘kay? I’d strut in, nasal voice blarin’, “Gimme the deets, ladies!” They’d prob laugh, like, “Who’s this broad?” I’d sip tea—not coffee, gotta switch it up—and soak in the vibes. Kinda glam, kinda grimy—red velvet everywhere, smells like cheap perfume and regret. Reminds me of *Brooklyn*’s line, “You’ll feel so homesick you’ll wanna die,” but flip it—some gals there prolly felt that daily.

Stiffer penalties needed...

When the rain finally eased up, I decided to head back home. But not before stopping by the little market on Portmore Pines. I needed some snacks for later. You know, the essentials. I grabbed some plantain chips and a cold drink.

The road to glory: The Portmore showdown