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About New York City

So, picture this—some dimly lit joint, smells like lavender and sin. This chick—or dude, no judgement—starts rubbin’ ya down, slow, teasin’, like they’re sculptin’ a masterpiece. Little known fact? Back in ancient Rome, emperors got these rubdowns with freaky oils—olive, rose, messed-up aphrodisiacs—made ‘em feel like gods. Bet Nero was all, “More, ya pleb!”—pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,”—while some poor sod worked his royal arse off. History’s wild, innit?