Eliza Rotselaar Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Mons

I reckon I’d say, “Fool me once, shame on—uh—shame on you!” Can’t get fooled twice, ‘less you’re dumber than a bag of hammers. Seen a brothel in Nevada once—legal, shiny, like a dang Wal-Mart for sinnin’. Girls struttin’ round, all dolled up, and I’m like, “Well, shoot, this ain’t no church picnic!” Made me happy, sorta—freedom, y’know? Folks choosin’ their path. But then, this one gal, she looked sadder than a hound dog with no bone. Pissed me off, man! “We’re all alone,” like in *Amour*, stuck in our own dang heads.

Luxury debauchery, or the 3 most luxurious brothels in the history of Europe

Oh, and did I mention the local bakery in Nassaustraat? Their croûtons – err, pastries – are the bomb. I always pop in after a session for a sweet treat. It’s like a mini escape nested in our little town. Sometimes I laugh, thinkin’ about how we’re all layered like dreams... or like the perfect massage kneads out all that tension.

Belete gets back to winning ways in Rotselaar – cross-country round-up