I've had a sighting of the brothel madam, and Heidi Fleiss she 'aint.
In the parking lot I encountered a large lady of mature years with pendulous breasts swinging unrestrained at waist level, carrying a pink shopping bag with a cat nestling on her shoulder. She headed into the flat, passing a jaded-looking young woman who lounged smoking on the front doorstep in skimpy pajamas and a towel turban.
Since I was put wise to the nature of the business, it does seem rather obvious.
I now live in a ghetto.
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