I knew you but for a moment, though we had never met. We shared emotions, laughs, and sorrows. Our hearts had thus connected. You were far but felt so near. And before I knew it, I called you dear. We spoke, we laughed, we connected so much. And then, in a moment, it was gone. It was not. For you stepped away, unable to stay, The truth, too heavy, too sharp to convey. What bloomed too quickly burned too bright, And vanish...

He arrives just before the music ends. Quiet. Uninvited — yet expected. He watches from the doorway, shoulder pressed to the frame, breathe caught in his throat, like a note she hasn't played yet. She moves — back arched, legs slicing the air with velvet control, spine rippling like water remembering touch. A black leotard, sheer and near-sinful, clings to her like it knows what he’s thinking, like it knows everything. Tu...

Lying there, totally depleted, yet rock hard. Her hand pumps me furiously. The look on her face shows satisfaction—she knows she controls me; she owns me. My breath is shallow against her neck, craving release. Her rhythm is relentless; her hard nipple pressed against my chest. I grunt as I start to spasm, sperm spilling over my stomach and chest. Her smile widens, devilish. She licks a blob from my chest, savoring the ta...

PART 3 The boat cut through the late afternoon sea like a whispered promise. Fred stood barefoot at the bow, wind tugging at his open linen shirt, the salt air clinging to his skin. Behind him, the hum of the motor faded beneath the low pulse of music and the sound of laughter — female, warm, effortless. The girls were already aboard when he arrived — sun-kissed, glowing, their energy a magnet. Elena greeted him with a sm...

PART 2 The sun climbed lazily into the sky, gilding the thatched rooftops of Phi Phi with light that shimmered like brushed gold. Fred sat barefoot on the wooden deck outside his suite, a quiet contentment seeping into him like the morning heat. A bowl of tropical fruit sat beside his coffee, and the faint scent of salt lingered in the air, carried by a soft breeze that played with the edges of his open book. He had read...

The speedboat skimmed across the Andaman Sea, the hull slicing through pale turquoise water with a deep, satisfying hum. Phi Phi lay ahead, its jagged limestone cliffs and cascading greenery rising like a dream just beginning to stir. The morning sun shimmered low, softening everything into a tropical haze. Savannah stretched her legs out across the padded bench seat, letting her head fall back with a sigh. “Twelve hours...

Anabelle adjusted her silk blouse for the third time, the fabric clinging to her curves beneath the tailored jacket that made TSA agents stare without shame. The moment she saw the ocean from the plane window, she exhaled slowly, finally allowing herself to believe it: forty-eight hours alone with Wade. She hadn’t seen him in nearly two months. Phone calls, dirty messages, whispered moans over late-night video calls — the...

Good Until Morning Thursday. 8:04 PM. Erinvale. The house was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made you hear your thoughts — and feel them. Christopher leaned back in the leather chair in his study, still in his office shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. A glass of sauvignon blanc rested on the windowsill beside him. His phone lay facedown on the desk, but it was buzzing again. Three new messages. Three...

Steam & Silence The door hisses shut. Heavy. Sealed. Steam rising in waves thick enough to cloud everything — except thought. The bench is warm. Wood pressed against skin I don’t often show. Naked, except for the things I can’t leave behind. There’s chatter outside the glass. Weights clank. Music thumps. Someone’s laughing — probably Dean, teasing someone into a new PR set. But in here, there’s silence. Steam. And memory....

The Last Breakfast | 10:30 AM | Garden Terrace The table had been set beneath a vine-covered pergola in the hotel’s private garden courtyard. White linens, fresh flowers in small glass vases, and a table that overflowed with everything good: mimosas, fruit platters, croissants still warm, thick-cut bacon, smoked salmon, soft scrambled eggs, roasted vine tomatoes, avocado halves, cheeses, preserves, granola, yogurt, and fl...

Part 5 – The Night Unfolds Ana & Jade | The Terrace | 8:30 PM The terrace outside their shared villa suite was dimly lit, the table scattered with tapas, half-sipped wine, and a candle flickering in a glass hurricane lamp. The warm breeze carried the scent of fynbos and distant braai smoke. Overhead, a sky full of stars blinked down like they were in on the secrets. Ana and Jade sat barefoot in oversized robes, legs pulle...

Part 4 – Yacht Day Morning at the Hotel | 9:00–9:30 AM The Ferrari’s low growl faded as it rolled to a stop in front of the estate hotel, the sound oddly refined in the early-morning air. Christopher stepped out, fresh from a cool shower and dressed for the day, light-blue linen shirt over tailored navy shorts, leather sandals, overnight bag slung casually over one shoulder. His aviators were in place, and the only giveaw...

Part 3 – Their Night TogetherArrival | Erinvale | 2:10 AM Saturday Morning The Land Cruiser purred along the empty streets, leaving Stellenbosch behind as the lights of the Winelands faded into quiet. The cabin was dim, the soft glow from the dashboard casting shadows across Melany’s bare thighs, the dark sweep of her dress teasing across her skin. She leaned into him in the back seat, curled under his arm. Their fingers...

Part 2 – Friday Night Flare The clang of weights and the bass of an upbeat playlist filled the large open floor of The Forge Gym in Somerset West. It wasn’t luxury. It was real. Energetic. A little gritty. And that’s exactly why Christopher trained here. There was a kind of rhythm to the place—people pushing themselves, nodding along to music, exchanging glances of camaraderie without needing to talk. It energized him, he...

Only for the Weekend – Part 1: Terminal TemptationsThe low hum of late-afternoon traffic echoed through the terminals of OR Tambo International Airport. February sunlight filtered through the glass, bathing everything in a warm golden haze. It was that stretch of day where time softened—where work slipped into memory, and the weekend began to stretch its arms. Christopher stood in line at security, his lean frame relaxed...