Paris

Paris, do I need to say anything else? The city is known as the most romantic in the world, and it's only natural that I would spend the beginning of my seven-day honeymoon there. After a quickie in the airplane bathroom, to keep up with the tradition of newlyweds, an hour and a half later, we were already landing at Orly Airport.

As soon as we got into the taxi, I couldn't help but admire the beauty of the city, filled with monuments, squares, charming boulevards, Morris columns, patisseries, and other sights that catch my eye. I feel an immense desire to jump out of the taxi and walk the streets to not miss another minute without experiencing every part of Paris. Then I smile as I catch sight of the Eiffel Tower and its magnificent presence, one of the things I insist on seeing before we move on to our next city.

Upon arriving at L'Hotel, located right in the center of Saint Germain, we are greeted by its beautiful golden ceiling with stone figures of angels and chandeliers hidden among the green arches. Its ceiling seems endless, and I could spend a lifetime admiring its beauty. After the receptionist confirms our reservation, or rather:
"La réservation du Seigneur et Dame de Salazar est confirmée," the receptionist says, I love how she referred to the two of us.

We are taken to our apartment, which happens to be the largest suite in the hotel. The first thing I notice is the decoration in shades of red, burgundy, and gold. The concierge then closes the door behind us and speaks about the room's history in French:
"Built after Louis-Antoine, the Cardinal of Noailles, it is the largest suite in the hotel, spanning 45 square meters. It has a terrace overlooking the city's rooftops and the bell tower of Saint Germain des Prés. The decor is inspired by the cardinal's cloak, with heavy red velvet curtains and silk fabric covering the walls." The young brown-haired man smiles at us and says, "Bienvenue et profitez de votre séjour" (Welcome and enjoy your stay).

"Merci," I thank in French.

As soon as the concierge leaves, I open the white door that leads to the terrace. The view is so beautiful that I feel like crying. I look at the two black-and-white striped chairs and think about sitting on that terrace, basking in the glorious sunlight. But my thoughts fade as I feel Carlos embracing me, his arms around my waist. He smells my hair as it's blown back by the wind.

"I think we could break in this terrace now," Carlos suggests, slipping my shoulder out of my clothes. "What do you think?"

"I think we should break into the room first," I reply with a smile on my lips.

I turn around and give my husband a kiss, and he closes his eyes. I step away from him and walk, removing my blouse, pants, bra, and panties, leaving them like breadcrumbs. I open the door to the room and lie down on those white sheets, completely naked. Shortly after, Carlos appears with my clothes. I sit in the middle of the bed and lightly tap the spot beside me, staring at my husband. He undresses and throws himself onto me. We make love, being watched by the painted eyes of the Cardinal of Noailles.

***

After satisfying our desires a bit, we have lunch at the beautiful hotel restaurant and set out to begin our adventure. We buy a map of the city, take the subway, and headed to explore the City of Light since we were only going to spend two days there. We take the subway and head to the city center. We get off at Charles de Gaulle Etoile station and climb its stairs that lead to the Arc de Triomphe, which we also ascend to the top. From up there, we take several photos and admire the main avenues of Paris converging towards Place Charles de Gaulle. But we don't stay for long; we have much to see and little time.

We walk along the Champs-Élysées, also known as the main catwalk of Paris. Along the way, we pass by shops, galleries, restaurants, showhouses, and a lot of people. We also come across a beautiful garden. Carlos wanted to take me to see the Grand Palais and Petit Palai's buildings to enjoy the great art exhibitions held there. But we might not have enough time to make it to the Louvre, so we decide to keep walking through the garden until we reach Place de la Concorde, a noble spot surrounded by tourist buses and hundreds of tourists who, like the two of us, came to explore the heart of the city. We take photos of the Luxor Obelisk and the beautiful ornamented fountain with golden and green sculptures.

We cross the square and reach the gates of the Tuileries Garden. We decide not to enter and continue along the bustling Rue de Rivoli. It is full of hotels, restaurants, and art galleries. Of course, we also find souvenirs to take back to our families. We buy Paris T-shirts, keychains, refrigerator magnets, and perfumes at a good price, as they say, the perfumes there are the best. We also buy coats, scarves, and a miniature Eiffel Tower for the two of us. Along our way, we come across a beautiful golden equestrian statue of Joan of Arc, from which I take many photos. We cross the street in front of the statue, holding hands.

"I'm already tired. Will it take much longer?" I ask Carlos, tired of taking so many photos.

He smiles, embraces me, and then raises his arm, pointing to the Louvre's glass pyramid. We walk towards the pyramid, happy.

"They say that to appreciate each work, even if you spend only a minute on each, you would need a week to see the entire collection," Carlos says, admiring the painting of the Mona Lisa. In truth, we only came to the Louvre to see her.

"Wow," I exclaimed, amazed. I carefully observe the face of the most famous woman in the world. What secrets does she hold behind that slight smile?

"I'll have to spend a lifetime and a little more to see everything within you, Dalia," Carlos says, touching my chin. "My Mona Lisa."

Our lips meet, oblivious to the museum's movement. I lose myself in Carlos' lips, my Leonardo.
***
We had dinner at Carrousel du Louvre, enjoying a delicious Coq au vin. After being immersed in French culture, we left the museum, or so I thought, until Carlos pulled me into a quieter street. He pushes me against a stone wall and kisses me passionately.

"What are you doing?" I ask as Carlos almost tears my blouse, exposing my breasts. "Are you crazy? What if someone catches us here?"

"I can't keep my hands off you anymore," Carlos replies, taking my breasts and sucking on them passionately.

"Then we have to be quick," I say, pulling down my pants. Carlos positions himself better, lifting my left leg and thrusting with all the passion he has. "Ohh... yes."

He moves fast and intense, driving me wild. The adrenaline of being discovered makes everything more pleasurable. I hold onto his neck as he penetrates me deeper and deeper. I bite his ear and talk dirty, driving him crazy. I orgasm uncontrollably, muffled by Carlos's hand over my mouth. Soon after, he also climaxes. We stay there, listening to our heavy breaths for a while. Then we compose ourselves and walk down the street, laughing at our mischief.

We arrived at the hotel very late and went straight to the room. After a nice bathtub, I lie on the bed, almost falling asleep. Then Carlos embraces me from behind and whispers in my ear, "I hope you're not too tired. After all, we still have a lot to enjoy."

I open my eyes and I know exactly what he means by that. I smile. I know exactly what I should do.

***

When I finally open my eyes, I notice that it's bright outside. I turn towards where Carlos should be, but he's not there. I get up, only wearing the sheet, and walk through the room, finding him sitting on the terrace. I sit in the chair next to him, admiring the bell tower.

"Good morning," I say, giving my husband a kiss on the lips.

"Good afternoon," Carlos replies, smiling. He looks at his watch. "To be precise, it's three o'clock in the afternoon."

"Wow," I exclaim, putting my hands on my face, startled. I slept for 12 uninterrupted hours. Then I feel a bit sad. We missed a big part of the planned sightseeing. "We almost missed a whole day of sightseeing."

"Yes, but we still have the Pont des Arts and the Eiffel Tower," Carlos says, kissing my neck. "Or we can just stay here..."

"Interesting proposition, but I'll decline," I say, getting up. "I'll just change clothes, and then we'll finish enjoying the city."

***

The Pont des Arts is close to the Louvre, so we follow the same path. From a distance, the iron bridge doesn't seem that special. As we get closer, colorful spots start to take shape on the iron grates. They are locks of all shapes and sizes, symbolizing the love of each couple that has passed by.

"The legend says that the couple who locks their padlock here and throws the keys into the waters of the Seine will stay together forever," Carlos explains, walking with me hand in hand along the bridge. "The couple writes their names on the lock, chooses a spot on the bridge's grates, locks it, and throws the keys into the Seine."

The result is a colorful bridge, filled with numerous couples and overflowing with love.

"Bonjour, beau couple. Aimeriez-vous pour perpétuer l'amour de vous ici sur le pont? Pour 3 euros seulement, vous aurez le cadenas de l'amour," a merchant offers, holding a huge padlock in his hands. ("Hello, beautiful couple. Would you like to perpetuate your love here on the bridge? For only 3 euros, you will have the love lock.")

"Non merci beaucoup. Nous ne croyons pas aux superstitions," Carlos declines the offer. He kisses my forehead and explains the refusal. "The French government has banned this type of action as it's threatening the bridge."

"Then how are we going to make our love last forever?" I ask, curious.

"It's simple: by loving and respecting each other every day," Carlos answers. Then he smiles as he sees my confused face and grabs the camera, saying, "But we can immortalize it with a photo." And so, we start our forever.

We take a photo of us kissing in the middle of the bridge, surrounded by thousands of eternal loves.

***

Nightfall is approaching as we reach the city's main attraction, the Eiffel Tower. With three observation platforms and several elevators, we make our way to the second level and then change elevators to reach the top floor. The view from up there is the best in Paris and becomes even more beautiful as night falls. Despite Carlos having so many "They say" about the city, this time he remains silent, admiring the view while holding me in his arms. I smile and say, "They say a person truly becomes intimate with Paris when they reach the point of visiting the city without worrying about seeing the Eiffel Tower."

"Really?" Carlos asks, curious.

"Yes," I lie, inventing that just to see my husband amazed by something I supposedly know. "It also happens with people."

"Well, I hope I never become that intimate with you," Carlos says seriously.

"Why?" I ask, raising my eyebrow.

"Because I don't want to stop caring about you," Carlos answers, kissing me.

"I love you," I declare to my husband. Then I look at my watch and get startled. "We have to go, or we'll miss the show at Le Crazy Horse."

"Are you serious about wanting to go to that show?" Carlos asks, serious.

"First, it's not exactly a show," I correct him. Then I run my hand over his pants and whisper in his ear, "Second, you'll love it, too, and you'll even get a reward at the end."
If you thought I went to Paris just to see museums, architecture, and romantic places, then you definitely don't know me yet...

Crazy Horse is the second most sought-after cabaret in Paris, second only to the Moulin Rouge. It is located on Avenue George V, and gaining access to it requires a hefty sum of money and dressing up for a true gala night. And that's exactly how Carlos and I are, dressed in black tie. I'm wearing a beautiful black dress, low-cut almost to my navel, with my hair swept to the side.

I notice that Crazy Horse is packed as Carlos pulls out the chair at our reserved table for me, sitting next to me shortly after. As we settle in, the waiter brings our welcome cocktails and then a fine bottle of wine. Then the lights dim, indicating that the show is about to begin.

As the curtains open, scantily clad dancers appear in a line, wearing costumes reminiscent of French uniforms. The dancers' perky breasts start bouncing as they march to the rhythm of military music. My husband's eyes are fixated on them, and I must admit that mine are too, although not for the same reasons. I love musicals and even more so, well-executed choreography. And my husband loves breasts. I don't think he'll ever have an experience like this again, especially being allowed to look without any hesitation.

"Did you know about this?" Carlos whispers in my ear.

"Yes, I simply combined the useful with the enjoyable," I reply, smiling.

One by one, the performances unfold with all the glamour and sensuality of the dancers' perfect and provocative bodies. Each one has surprising and modern elements, such as song dubbing, colorful lights, and special effects. Shadows, mirrors, colors, and shapes enhance the beauty and allure of those girls. At Crazy Horse, striptease becomes more than just sensuality; it also gains a magical effect.