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About Antwerp

So, sexual-massage—ain’t just a rubdown, nah. It’s an art, a sneaky lil dance of touch that’s been around forever. Fun fact: ancient Greeks were *obsessed* with it—called it “anatripsis,” fancy huh? They’d slap oil on naked bods after wrestlin’, all “oh, my aching muscles,” but we know what’s up—horny buggers! Gets me laughin’ every time. Bet they’d blush if they saw today’s neon-lit parlors!

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Neighborhoods here are a mixed bag. West End’s artsy and kinda grungy. I sometimes get mad, D’oh!, when graffiti ends up on my spa's wall – but then, mmm… donuts. East Side is plush and neat. I always feel like I’m in one of them crazy Western showdowns, like in "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford." "I got a plan," I’d mutter, kinda dramatic, ya know?

Fallen Van Empel (after Pieterse's crash) executes a brilliant comeback in Baal