Wake up. Anne shakes me. 'Monsieur waits downstairs.' Groggy, I crave sleep, oblivion. But we rise. Quick shared shower, steam on marble tiles. Downstairs, naked as always. Wilfried beams, towel…
My private studio gleams like a penthouse dungeon—black leather benches, polished steel chains dangling from vaulted ceilings, silk kimono draped over velvet chaise. Sun filters through frosted glass, casting golden…
The first Saturday of the month is sacred. Hélène, my partner, spends her afternoon with the girls. Last Saturday followed suit. She warned me she'd be at Christine's penthouse, and…
Paris. The National Council's mahogany-paneled chamber gleams under crystal chandeliers. Polished leather seats cradle us like thrones. I sink into mine, the scent of aged oak and Nathalie’s perfume invading.…
The elevator hums to the penthouse pinnacle. City lights glitter below like scattered diamonds. Our hostess, a shadowed heiress in Louboutins, greets us at the door. Her eyes strip me…
Silk whispers against my skin as the private elevator hums to the penthouse clinic suite. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls frame the city skyline, diamonds glittering below. Champagne chills in crystal flutes…
The Serengeti lodge bungalows gleam under African stars, private sanctuaries of polished teak and gauzy mosquito nets over king-sized four-posters. Vast glass walls frame the endless golden savanna, where a…
That monstrous white shitstain, Sacré-Cœur, scars Paris like an ideological pimple. I loathe it. Tourists trample the steps, confusing it with Notre-Dame, snapping selfies amid the throng. Panties flash. Cleavages…
Deep in the Pyrenean foothills, our private equestrian estate gleams under July sun. Polished leather saddles creak softly against horse flanks, their buttery touch lingering on thighs. I organize this…
We climbed the hilltop under a velvet sky, our private aerie above the Thousand Miles Land. Naked skin kissed by cool breeze, arms laden with shed clothes. Luxe tents shimmered…