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About Dusseldorf

Oh, and the oils—gods, the smells! Lavender, ylang-ylang, whatever that is—sounds like a Dornish curse. Slippery stuff, gets everywhere, and I’m raging when it stains my silks, but who cares? Feels too good. There’s this trick—little known, mind—where they use hot stones. HOT STONES! Pop ‘em on your back, and it’s like dragons breathing on ya. Had it once, nearly leapt off the table—shocked me stupid, but damn, it worked. Tension gone, poof, like I’d torched it myself.