Travel
There’s something different about time stolen together—when the world outside no longer matters.
Where it’s just the two of us: nowhere to be, nothing to do, except unwind together.
We sleep in late. Hold each other in the pool. You stroke my leg under the table at dinner.
In a place like this, presence becomes pleasure—and every moment starts to feel like foreplay.
If you had me for…
-
24 hours
We arrive in time to nap together. You’ll find me in your shirt. We order lunch to the room because it’s too delicious to get dressed again.
That night: we trade forkfuls and private jokes at dinner. You stroke my leg under the table. We fall asleep with nothing between us—except your arm around my waist.
You wake up to skin and espresso. We leave the bed, eventually.
-
Friday evening, you loosen your tie while I pour the wine. We forget time.
Saturday disappears between spa steam, a book I never finish reading, and your hands across my thighs while we lie in the sun. We nap and wake and laugh. And touch. A lot.
By Sunday morning, we don’t remember what we left behind.
-
Seven days of you and me.
We make a routine of room service and shared bathtubs. I pack two dresses and no bras.
Some days we go out. Some days we don’t. But every day, we learn a new way to enjoy each other. Quietly or brazenly. Playfully. Always skin-close.
Where you could take me
Shebara Resort, The Red Sea
SAUDI ARABIA
You won’t find me walking through a lobby here. No one checks in. There are no corridors. Just a private boat that takes us across open water, to a villa where the walls are glass and the world stops asking questions.
We drink coffee barefoot on the deck. Your hand rests on the back of my thigh while I pretend to read. We eat with our fingers. Nap in the afternoon. Rinse off together in an outdoor shower before dinner. I sit on your lap during dessert.
Here, nothing interrupts us. Not the phone. Not the past. Not even clothes, unless we decide otherwise.
Sharq Village by Ritz-Carlton
QATAR
We arrive through a private entrance and step into a villa of arches, silk, and still air. The doors close behind us, and we don’t need to unpack. We won’t be dressed long.
The bed is wide. The bathtub fits two. I wear nothing but a towel and ask you to dry my hair while we listen to the sound of the courtyard fountain. Later, we eat with our fingers. I feed you something sweet and then lick it from my own wrist.
At dinner, you touch my leg under the table. I move closer. We don’t rush. We never do.
Raffles Al Areen Palace
BAHRAIN
This is where you bring a woman when you want to feel like you’ve stolen her.
Our villa is all carved doors and quiet courtyards, silk robes and still water. We float between the private pool and the bed, coming up only for long lunches and longer glances. You stroke my leg beneath the table while the call to prayer sounds faintly in the distance. We sleep late, bathe slowly, and make plans to leave.
But not until we’ve done everything to each other one more time.
Four Seasons Hotel
KUWAIT
We don’t go to the pool for the view. We go for the cabana. Curtains drawn, cushions warm, my legs stretched across your lap while the world simmers quietly just outside.
You feed me something cold. I let it melt on my tongue before I kiss your fingers. I tease you with a bite, then brush my lips across your wrist. You slip your hand beneath the linen wrap I haven’t bothered to tie properly.
Later, we return to the suite. Lights low. Still damp from the heat. You watch me undress slowly while our dinner goes untouched.
This isn’t a seaside escape. It’s a city turned private—because I’m in it with you.