Beg off and continue into the Caravanserai.

"I am sorry my friend, but I have urgent business to attend to. Perhaps next time," you beg off. Tarken lays it on a bit thick and oily sometimes.

"Very well," he pauses, "my friend, you have promised to play me at chess. I expect you to live up to your promise." he claps your hand in his an smiles.

You nod, "perhaps another time," you say again and turn to leave.

You walk through the familiar doors into the main foyer. A familiar servant in a silken caftan salaams you. “Sir, your usual room?” he asks.

You consider briefly, trying to recall this fellows name. “No Lito, I crave something more memorable.” This being your last day you decide that you must experience something different.

Sensing your mood Lito nods, “sir, perhaps the Den?”

Your eyebrow raises. The Den is where merchants would go to smoke potent narghiles packed with strange mind altering philtres and other more mystical contraband. You had always given the Den a wide berth, as losing control of your faculties had never seemed wise. Still you had always been curious.

“Perhaps,” you agree and follow him down the steps into the gloomy half lit basement where men lounged in the thrall of magic pipes and woman met there whims.

You settle down amongst the pillows and a pipe is brought to you by a comely **** girl. She does not leave, but curls amongst the pillows at your feet, offering you the pipe with a sultry smile. You take the pipe and inhale. The smoke lingers in your mouth and tastes like cinnamon and other subtle spices. You beckon the girl forward to kiss you and exhale appreciatively into her mouth. She takes it all and you see her eye become a trifle sleepy as smile spreads across her pretty lips.

You take another pull and repeat the ceremony. You and her are to go on a trip together you sense. A strange trip of body and mind. You cup her ample breast and smile. Her body is lovely.