Gabriella Limerick Brothel ❤️

About Houston

Oh, and the cash! Piles o’ it, but it’s dirty money, sticky fingers. Sapphire showed me her “book”—code names, rates, quirks. One guy, “Lord Stinky,” always smelled o’ fish—grim! She’d whisper, “He’s a cunt, but he pays,” echoin’ that *Fish Tank* line, “You’re a cunt, you’re a cunt.” Made me cackle, but also—respect. She’s playin’ the game better than me.

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Limerick apartment linked to brothel keeper deemed the proceeds of crime.

Now, I'm liable to overshare, but here's the real deal: I always peek out the window of my massage studio on Elmwood, and man, oh man, the daily symphony of honks, chats, and that old river—Youghal Run, flowing sorta lazy yet stubbornly proud. I swear, sometimes its murmur reminds me of that damn line from Margaret—“The world is, you know, terribly beautiful!” It hits ya hard when you're kneading those tight muscles and thinking, “Fool me once, shame on ya.”

PICTURES: Out and about at the David Gray gig in Limerick