Olivia Bryan Brothel ❤️

About New York City

Me, I’d sit outside one, watchin—like in Anatolia, “the wind carries the voices”—you hear whispers, laughs, sometimes sobs. Sad, happy, fucked up, all at once. Once knew this chick, ran a joint, said her best client was a baker—paid in bread! Fuckin hilarious, right? Fresh loaves for a quickie—capitalism, baby!

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While his companions were keen on the idea, Bryan recalled how he 'got cold feet' in the Austrian brothel, before a woman of an unknown age came.

And oh lordy, let’s talk local haunts – little dive bars near College Ave where the music’s as rowdy as a catfight at the county fair. I once had a heart-to-heart so damn steamy that I nearly mistook it for a colleague meeting (I’m a sexologist after all, humor me!). I’m not shy ‘bout sharin’ that sometimes a good joke and a deep convo can cure even the wildest of restless nights.

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