Elite Escort Services, Sensual Massage, and Strippers in Düsseldorf, Germany

Letter with No Translation
Düsseldorf, between seasons

You asked what I remember most.
Its never the obvious.

Not the first touch.
Not the sighs.
Its the moment just before when silence became a third body in the room.

I inhabit myself differently than most women are taught.
Not because Ive been trained otherwise,
but because I unlearned everything that was meant to keep me smaller than my skin.

My breasts they fall left first. Always.
My ass is heavy in the way cities are layered, lived-in, unrepentant.
There is a scar behind my right knee from a childhood fall I never confessed.
Youll find it if you kneel long enough.

My skin carries scent like memory bergamot, tobacco leaf, trace iron from the rings I wear too long.
There is no symmetry in me.
Only rhythm.

Youd hear it, if you stood close enough.
The way my breath interrupts itself.
The low register of my voice
not sultry, not sweet
just deliberately unhurried.

In Düsseldorf, I dont go where Im expected.
I disappear into what the city forgets to name.
The alley near Kunsthalle where the lights flicker even when its dry.
The hotel bar in Oberkassel where the pianist plays songs nobody requests.
The side entrance to a rooftop that isnt listed,
but the wind knows it.

We wouldnt speak much.
Id listen to how you dont know how to rest.
And youd feel, for the first time in too long, that being watched isnt always threat.
Sometimes, its devotion.

Later
the door would close behind us like breath exhaled.
And I would begin to undo. Not for you. For gravity.

This isnt a striptease show.
This is a return.
Not an offering. Not even an act.
A re-entry.

My clothes fall like pages.
And when I touch you
it wont be to excite.
It will be to listen.
Through skin, through muscle.
Until I find the part of you even you forgot how to name.

You may call it an erotic massage.
They might list it under escort Düsseldorf.
But I do not move like a service.
I move like a woman who remembers her body as language,
and offers it only when silence is worthy.

This isnt a proposition.
Im not writing to be chosen.
Im writing because something in me has already said yes.
And something in you despite yourself has already answered.

Dont reply.
Not yet.
Let the space between us do the talking first.