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About Szombathely

So, erotic-massage – lemme paint ya a picture. It’s all bout them soft lights, oils slicker than a Texas pig, an’ somebody’s hands goin’ places yer mama wouldn’t approve! I got mad once, y’all – this one gal charged me double, said it was “extra sensual.” Extra sensual my left foot! I was hotter than a two-dollar pistol, but then she started kneadin’ my shoulders an’ – lordy – I melted faster than butter on a biscuit. How’s that workin’ for ya, huh? Worked for me, I’ll tell ya what!

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So, I finish up the job, and I’m covered head to toe in grit. I look like I just crawled outta a sandstorm. But whatever, I’m hungry. I head over to that café. It’s packed! I squeeze in, and the smell of fresh coffee hits me. I order a cappuccino, and let me tell ya, it’s like heaven in a cup. I’m sippin’ it, and suddenly, all the stress melts away.

The failed mission to convince Nazi Germany to release one million Jews