Brianna Keyport Brothel ❤️

About New York City

But the stench—goddamn, it’d choke ya. Sweat, cheap perfume, regret—mixes like a bad stew. Made me angry, too—pimps lurkin’, takin’ cuts, actin’ big. Scum. I’d fantasize slittin’ their throats, servin’ ‘em up with a nice amarone. Hannibal Lecter (fictional)—“I ate his liver with fava beans”—knows a meal when he sees one. One time, heard a story—Victorian brothel, London, right? Had a secret room for “special tastes.” Whips, chains, even a fuckin’ goat once! Goat! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares—fits the vibe.

The history of brothels

MIDDLETOWN: The latest police blotter has a handful of DWIs, a whole lotta heroin, and three charged with prostitution.

The river, the Keyport Creek, cuts right through town. I’d sit on its banks at sunset — serenity mixed with urban chaos. Makes me glad and mad at the same time.

Slag cleanup on Keyport beach continues as items are tested for lead content