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I had always wanted to visit Dubai. I had heard many stories from friends who had gone - money everywhere, supercars, great food, fantastic hotels...but most of all, the women. The way it had been explained to me, it was like Vegas, except in Dubai Americans are treated like royalty, while in Vegas Americans are treated like, well, everyone else.
Work finally had me scheduled to go to a business summit in Oman, and it was a simple private-charter hop to go to Dubai afterward. I happily added on a full week of vacation to my business trip, had my secretary arrange the necessities, and packed my bags - complete with my "party suit." This last part is important...my party suit is a suit that I was gifted by my uncle for prom. My uncle is a baller, and as far as I can tell, always has been a baller. He went all out and bought me an incredibly fine tailored suit. Prom, the first night I wore the party suit, was the first time I ever scored. Since then, whenever I have donned the party suit, I have closed. It's my good luck charm that never fails. I only wear it on special occasions, and so far, every one of those occasions has indeed been special. Now, ten years later, I can still fit into my party suit (thanks to a few alterations at the tailor), and it is still as stylish and rockin' as ever.
Trip booked, hotels reserved, car hired, all I could think about during my Oman business summit was my impending trip to Dubai. I did manage to concentrate long enough to close a few deals and keep my employer happy, but my mind was definitely not on business. At last the time came and I hopped aboard my charter to Dubai.
Once settled into my hotel, and after ordering the best room service I have ever had, I crashed early, eager to be well rested for my first full day in this middle-eastern paradise city. A note to the wise: It is best to not be financially unstable in Dubai. Just as Vegas takes money to have a "Hollywood" experience, so too does Dubai - around triple what Vegas would cost.
I started my day with a wonderful breakfast at a delightful Turkish coffee house. The baristas smiled at me, and I could visibly see how they lusted after my white skin. I smiled back, but kept to myself. I decided to get a few touristy things out of the way, just to tick those boxes on my travel card. I took a camel tour in the desert, rented a dune buggy and sped around the dunes at 70 mph (exhilarating, I must say), and then retired to my hotel for a mid-day nap. Waking in time for dinner, I once again ordered room service. After all, with a full week, no need to exhaust myself on the first day.
My second day started much like the first. I went out for breakfast, this time at a French-inspired crepe café. They coffee, and chocolate-strawberry breakfast crepes are to die for. Once again the waitresses made eyes at me, and once again I kept to myself. For one reason or another, I decided to play coy with them, and postpone my carnal adventures. I'm not sure why - maybe it's because the middle east has a reputation for being mysterious and I myself wanted to be a bit mysterious.
After breakfast I did one of the most ridiculous things I have ever done - I went skiing in the desert! I know what you're thinking, 110 degree heat, bright sun, surrounded by sand dunes, and I went skiing? Yes, I did! Dubai has everything, literally everything. If you can imagine it, they have it. Crave a Vermont micro-brew? The concierge at the hotel can hook it up, usually within the hour. Want French caviar? No problem. Looking for a Canali tie, not due out until next season? Not an issue. Everything is available - for a price. Skiing was a trip...although I never actually made it to the snow. You see, as I was preparing to enter, a woman who was exiting caught my eye. She was not wearing the traditional burka. She was dressed in pale orange and yellow silks, with gold star accents. Her eyelashes seemed longer and fuller than any I had seen before, with a busom to match. She looked at me, and then looked at me again. Unlike the baristas and waitresses of my earlier meeting, I looked back at this mysterious beauty. She had curves in all the right places, and the way she walked harkened to her high-class roots.
We walked past each other, and it wasn't until later that we realized neither of us had dared breathe. After we passed, we caught each other both turning around for another look at one another. That did it, I'm a sucker for a beautiful woman in a foreign land, and she was a sucker...well, in more ways than one. We left her car right there in the parking lot and absconded to lunch, even though it was only just past breakfast. We needed an excuse to go somewhere, do something. She mentioned something about dropping someone off to ski, but I hardly paid attention. I was immersed in her deep, rich brown eyes, and could only hope that other parts of her body were just as alluring. I intended to find out.
Her English was perfect. Evidently, as I came to learn, she was born into an upper-caste family and honed her English with the aid of a private tutor and frequent trips to English-speaking countries such as Australia. Her accept was a mix of middle-eastern, Australian, and British...an alluring combination if ever there was one! Lunch led to a walk through a cultivated gardens, then on to a shopping center where I insisted that I bestow a small gift upon her (a diamond tennis bracelet...which I put on my company card. I may catch hell for that later but I wasn't thinking straight). She made a call to take care of her vehicle and whoever she dropped off skiing, and insisted that she be my Dubai tour guide, to give me an "inside perspective" on her home city and country. I wasn't sure, but I thought she put a little extra emphasis on the word "inside" when she spoke it.
Without going into elaborate minute-by-minute details, suffice to say that things went as well as one could hope. We retreated to my hotel so that I could change for dinner. Taking no chances, and definitely eager to "close the deal," my attire was of course my party suit. She knew an authentic, upscale restaurant, and even insisted on paying for dinner. We got closer, holding hands, adding funny accents to one another's name, inhaling each other's scent when the opportunity presented itself. After dinner, and after a bottle of wine that I do not even remember what it cost (she paid, remember), we retreated to my hotel room. Once through the door, my party suit was in a crumpled pile on the floor...and I didn't so much as have to touch a button or loosen the belt buckle. She was a magician with clothes, I swear. Her swiftness and speed in undressing me remains my fastest get-naked moment, ever.
That night. I do not even want to put words to it, lest they detract from it in the slightest. Middle eastern women, at least as judging from my new bed-mate, are the finest in the known world. If Marco Polo had made it to Dubai, he never would have left. If one of our esteemed Founding Fathers had taken a ship, followed by a camel-train, and arrived in Dubai, we would never have had the Declaration of Independence or Constitution, as he surely would have remained for the rest of his life in the arms of an exotic lover.
This women didn't let go of me all night, or morning. Her body gave and gave, in ways I had never even imagined (and I have a pretty active imagination in this area). We never left the room the following day. Room service sated our hunger and our thirst, but not out thirst for one another. Our en suit whirlpool tub took a pounding, and I dare say the expensive carpeting in the room suffered a bit from the tsunami waves that our passion in the tub released. Never before have two people, a man and a women, come together as I and this woman did.
I do not know what arrangements she made, but she did not leave my side for the remainder of my trip. We toured museums, restaurants, and even took a flight over the desert together. Every activity led to a return to my hotel room, and another unforgettable experience in the exploration of passion. As my time in Dubai drew to a close, we spoke briefly of the future. It turns out she had a son, although one could never tell from her tight body. He was in a private school, apparently a dedicated skier (who knew there were dedicated skiers in the desert), and could not leave Dubai due to a custody issue with his father. She could not leave her son alone, and I could not stay in Dubai. What we had was amazing, special, exhilarating, and a thousand other descriptors. It could not last, and after a last night of intense passion, I boarded my flight home, forever a changed man. At least I was finally able to sleep on my flight, tucked into a comfortable business class seat with a nice early-morning nightcap.
My outlook on life has changed, and in general I'm a happier, more alive person. I often reminisce, and find myself smiling. I'll never forget my time in Dubai with Ms. Hassani, such a welcoming, sexually-open women. I can only hope that her son, Faisal, never comes to know what his mother and I did, as it would tarnish even the dirtiest of minds, bringing shame to one's name for generations to come.
iFlipI had always wanted to visit Dubai. I had heard many stories from friends who had gone - money everywhere, supercars, great food, fantastic hotels...but most of all, the women. The way it had been explained to me, it was like Vegas, except in Dubai Americans are treated like royalty, while in Vegas Americans are treated like, well, everyone else.
Work finally had me scheduled to go to a business summit in Oman, and it was a simple private-charter hop to go to Dubai afterward. I happily added on a full week of vacation to my business trip, had my secretary arrange the necessities, and packed my bags - complete with my "party suit." This last part is important...my party suit is a suit that I was gifted by my uncle for prom. My uncle is a baller, and as far as I can tell, always has been a baller. He went all out and bought me an incredibly fine tailored suit. Prom, the first night I wore the party suit, was the first time I ever scored. Since then, whenever I have donned the party suit, I have closed. It's my good luck charm that never fails. I only wear it on special occasions, and so far, every one of those occasions has indeed been special. Now, ten years later, I can still fit into my party suit (thanks to a few alterations at the tailor), and it is still as stylish and rockin' as ever.
Trip booked, hotels reserved, car hired, all I could think about during my Oman business summit was my impending trip to Dubai. I did manage to concentrate long enough to close a few deals and keep my employer happy, but my mind was definitely not on business. At last the time came and I hopped aboard my charter to Dubai.
Once settled into my hotel, and after ordering the best room service I have ever had, I crashed early, eager to be well rested for my first full day in this middle-eastern paradise city. A note to the wise: It is best to not be financially unstable in Dubai. Just as Vegas takes money to have a "Hollywood" experience, so too does Dubai - around triple what Vegas would cost.
I started my day with a wonderful breakfast at a delightful Turkish coffee house. The baristas smiled at me, and I could visibly see how they lusted after my white skin. I smiled back, but kept to myself. I decided to get a few touristy things out of the way, just to tick those boxes on my travel card. I took a camel tour in the desert, rented a dune buggy and sped around the dunes at 70 mph (exhilarating, I must say), and then retired to my hotel for a mid-day nap. Waking in time for dinner, I once again ordered room service. After all, with a full week, no need to exhaust myself on the first day.
My second day started much like the first. I went out for breakfast, this time at a French-inspired crepe café. They coffee, and chocolate-strawberry breakfast crepes are to die for. Once again the waitresses made eyes at me, and once again I kept to myself. For one reason or another, I decided to play coy with them, and postpone my carnal adventures. I'm not sure why - maybe it's because the middle east has a reputation for being mysterious and I myself wanted to be a bit mysterious.
After breakfast I did one of the most ridiculous things I have ever done - I went skiing in the desert! I know what you're thinking, 110 degree heat, bright sun, surrounded by sand dunes, and I went skiing? Yes, I did! Dubai has everything, literally everything. If you can imagine it, they have it. Crave a Vermont micro-brew? The concierge at the hotel can hook it up, usually within the hour. Want French caviar? No problem. Looking for a Canali tie, not due out until next season? Not an issue. Everything is available - for a price. Skiing was a trip...although I never actually made it to the snow. You see, as I was preparing to enter, a woman who was exiting caught my eye. She was not wearing the traditional burka. She was dressed in pale orange and yellow silks, with gold star accents. Her eyelashes seemed longer and fuller than any I had seen before, with a busom to match. She looked at me, and then looked at me again. Unlike the baristas and waitresses of my earlier meeting, I looked back at this mysterious beauty. She had curves in all the right places, and the way she walked harkened to her high-class roots.
We walked past each other, and it wasn't until later that we realized neither of us had dared breathe. After we passed, we caught each other both turning around for another look at one another. That did it, I'm a sucker for a beautiful woman in a foreign land, and she was a sucker...well, in more ways than one. We left her car right there in the parking lot and absconded to lunch, even though it was only just past breakfast. We needed an excuse to go somewhere, do something. She mentioned something about dropping someone off to ski, but I hardly paid attention. I was immersed in her deep, rich brown eyes, and could only hope that other parts of her body were just as alluring. I intended to find out.
Her English was perfect. Evidently, as I came to learn, she was born into an upper-caste family and honed her English with the aid of a private tutor and frequent trips to English-speaking countries such as Australia. Her accept was a mix of middle-eastern, Australian, and British...an alluring combination if ever there was one! Lunch led to a walk through a cultivated gardens, then on to a shopping center where I insisted that I bestow a small gift upon her (a diamond tennis bracelet...which I put on my company card. I may catch hell for that later but I wasn't thinking straight). She made a call to take care of her vehicle and whoever she dropped off skiing, and insisted that she be my Dubai tour guide, to give me an "inside perspective" on her home city and country. I wasn't sure, but I thought she put a little extra emphasis on the word "inside" when she spoke it.
Without going into elaborate minute-by-minute details, suffice to say that things went as well as one could hope. We retreated to my hotel so that I could change for dinner. Taking no chances, and definitely eager to "close the deal," my attire was of course my party suit. She knew an authentic, upscale restaurant, and even insisted on paying for dinner. We got closer, holding hands, adding funny accents to one another's name, inhaling each other's scent when the opportunity presented itself. After dinner, and after a bottle of wine that I do not even remember what it cost (she paid, remember), we retreated to my hotel room. Once through the door, my party suit was in a crumpled pile on the floor...and I didn't so much as have to touch a button or loosen the belt buckle. She was a magician with clothes, I swear. Her swiftness and speed in undressing me remains my fastest get-naked moment, ever.
That night. I do not even want to put words to it, lest they detract from it in the slightest. Middle eastern women, at least as judging from my new bed-mate, are the finest in the known world. If Marco Polo had made it to Dubai, he never would have left. If one of our esteemed Founding Fathers had taken a ship, followed by a camel-train, and arrived in Dubai, we would never have had the Declaration of Independence or Constitution, as he surely would have remained for the rest of his life in the arms of an exotic lover.
This women didn't let go of me all night, or morning. Her body gave and gave, in ways I had never even imagined (and I have a pretty active imagination in this area). We never left the room the following day. Room service sated our hunger and our thirst, but not out thirst for one another. Our en suit whirlpool tub took a pounding, and I dare say the expensive carpeting in the room suffered a bit from the tsunami waves that our passion in the tub released. Never before have two people, a man and a women, come together as I and this woman did.
I do not know what arrangements she made, but she did not leave my side for the remainder of my trip. We toured museums, restaurants, and even took a flight over the desert together. Every activity led to a return to my hotel room, and another unforgettable experience in the exploration of passion. As my time in Dubai drew to a close, we spoke briefly of the future. It turns out she had a son, although one could never tell from her tight body. He was in a private school, apparently a dedicated skier (who knew there were dedicated skiers in the desert), and could not leave Dubai due to a custody issue with his father. She could not leave her son alone, and I could not stay in Dubai. What we had was amazing, special, exhilarating, and a thousand other descriptors. It could not last, and after a last night of intense passion, I boarded my flight home, forever a changed man. At least I was finally able to sleep on my flight, tucked into a comfortable business class seat with a nice early-morning nightcap.
My outlook on life has changed, and in general I'm a happier, more alive person. I often reminisce, and find myself smiling. I'll never forget my time in Dubai with Ms. Hassani, such a welcoming, sexually-open women. I can only hope that her son, Faisal, never comes to know what his mother and I did, as it would tarnish even the dirtiest of minds, bringing shame to one's name for generations to come.
iFlipI had always wanted to visit Dubai. I had heard many stories from friends who had gone - money everywhere, supercars, great food, fantastic hotels...but most of all, the women. The way it had been explained to me, it was like Vegas, except in Dubai Americans are treated like royalty, while in Vegas Americans are treated like, well, everyone else.
Work finally had me scheduled to go to a business summit in Oman, and it was a simple private-charter hop to go to Dubai afterward. I happily added on a full week of vacation to my business trip, had my secretary arrange the necessities, and packed my bags - complete with my "party suit." This last part is important...my party suit is a suit that I was gifted by my uncle for prom. My uncle is a baller, and as far as I can tell, always has been a baller. He went all out and bought me an incredibly fine tailored suit. Prom, the first night I wore the party suit, was the first time I ever scored. Since then, whenever I have donned the party suit, I have closed. It's my good luck charm that never fails. I only wear it on special occasions, and so far, every one of those occasions has indeed been special. Now, ten years later, I can still fit into my party suit (thanks to a few alterations at the tailor), and it is still as stylish and rockin' as ever.
Trip booked, hotels reserved, car hired, all I could think about during my Oman business summit was my impending trip to Dubai. I did manage to concentrate long enough to close a few deals and keep my employer happy, but my mind was definitely not on business. At last the time came and I hopped aboard my charter to Dubai.
Once settled into my hotel, and after ordering the best room service I have ever had, I crashed early, eager to be well rested for my first full day in this middle-eastern paradise city. A note to the wise: It is best to not be financially unstable in Dubai. Just as Vegas takes money to have a "Hollywood" experience, so too does Dubai - around triple what Vegas would cost.
I started my day with a wonderful breakfast at a delightful Turkish coffee house. The baristas smiled at me, and I could visibly see how they lusted after my white skin. I smiled back, but kept to myself. I decided to get a few touristy things out of the way, just to tick those boxes on my travel card. I took a camel tour in the desert, rented a dune buggy and sped around the dunes at 70 mph (exhilarating, I must say), and then retired to my hotel for a mid-day nap. Waking in time for dinner, I once again ordered room service. After all, with a full week, no need to exhaust myself on the first day.
My second day started much like the first. I went out for breakfast, this time at a French-inspired crepe café. They coffee, and chocolate-strawberry breakfast crepes are to die for. Once again the waitresses made eyes at me, and once again I kept to myself. For one reason or another, I decided to play coy with them, and postpone my carnal adventures. I'm not sure why - maybe it's because the middle east has a reputation for being mysterious and I myself wanted to be a bit mysterious.
After breakfast I did one of the most ridiculous things I have ever done - I went skiing in the desert! I know what you're thinking, 110 degree heat, bright sun, surrounded by sand dunes, and I went skiing? Yes, I did! Dubai has everything, literally everything. If you can imagine it, they have it. Crave a Vermont micro-brew? The concierge at the hotel can hook it up, usually within the hour. Want French caviar? No problem. Looking for a Canali tie, not due out until next season? Not an issue. Everything is available - for a price. Skiing was a trip...although I never actually made it to the snow. You see, as I was preparing to enter, a woman who was exiting caught my eye. She was not wearing the traditional burka. She was dressed in pale orange and yellow silks, with gold star accents. Her eyelashes seemed longer and fuller than any I had seen before, with a busom to match. She looked at me, and then looked at me again. Unlike the baristas and waitresses of my earlier meeting, I looked back at this mysterious beauty. She had curves in all the right places, and the way she walked harkened to her high-class roots.
We walked past each other, and it wasn't until later that we realized neither of us had dared breathe. After we passed, we caught each other both turning around for another look at one another. That did it, I'm a sucker for a beautiful woman in a foreign land, and she was a sucker...well, in more ways than one. We left her car right there in the parking lot and absconded to lunch, even though it was only just past breakfast. We needed an excuse to go somewhere, do something. She mentioned something about dropping someone off to ski, but I hardly paid attention. I was immersed in her deep, rich brown eyes, and could only hope that other parts of her body were just as alluring. I intended to find out.
Her English was perfect. Evidently, as I came to learn, she was born into an upper-caste family and honed her English with the aid of a private tutor and frequent trips to English-speaking countries such as Australia. Her accept was a mix of middle-eastern, Australian, and British...an alluring combination if ever there was one! Lunch led to a walk through a cultivated gardens, then on to a shopping center where I insisted that I bestow a small gift upon her (a diamond tennis bracelet...which I put on my company card. I may catch hell for that later but I wasn't thinking straight). She made a call to take care of her vehicle and whoever she dropped off skiing, and insisted that she be my Dubai tour guide, to give me an "inside perspective" on her home city and country. I wasn't sure, but I thought she put a little extra emphasis on the word "inside" when she spoke it.
Without going into elaborate minute-by-minute details, suffice to say that things went as well as one could hope. We retreated to my hotel so that I could change for dinner. Taking no chances, and definitely eager to "close the deal," my attire was of course my party suit. She knew an authentic, upscale restaurant, and even insisted on paying for dinner. We got closer, holding hands, adding funny accents to one another's name, inhaling each other's scent when the opportunity presented itself. After dinner, and after a bottle of wine that I do not even remember what it cost (she paid, remember), we retreated to my hotel room. Once through the door, my party suit was in a crumpled pile on the floor...and I didn't so much as have to touch a button or loosen the belt buckle. She was a magician with clothes, I swear. Her swiftness and speed in undressing me remains my fastest get-naked moment, ever.
That night. I do not even want to put words to it, lest they detract from it in the slightest. Middle eastern women, at least as judging from my new bed-mate, are the finest in the known world. If Marco Polo had made it to Dubai, he never would have left. If one of our esteemed Founding Fathers had taken a ship, followed by a camel-train, and arrived in Dubai, we would never have had the Declaration of Independence or Constitution, as he surely would have remained for the rest of his life in the arms of an exotic lover.
This women didn't let go of me all night, or morning. Her body gave and gave, in ways I had never even imagined (and I have a pretty active imagination in this area). We never left the room the following day. Room service sated our hunger and our thirst, but not out thirst for one another. Our en suit whirlpool tub took a pounding, and I dare say the expensive carpeting in the room suffered a bit from the tsunami waves that our passion in the tub released. Never before have two people, a man and a women, come together as I and this woman did.
I do not know what arrangements she made, but she did not leave my side for the remainder of my trip. We toured museums, restaurants, and even took a flight over the desert together. Every activity led to a return to my hotel room, and another unforgettable experience in the exploration of passion. As my time in Dubai drew to a close, we spoke briefly of the future. It turns out she had a son, although one could never tell from her tight body. He was in a private school, apparently a dedicated skier (who knew there were dedicated skiers in the desert), and could not leave Dubai due to a custody issue with his father. She could not leave her son alone, and I could not stay in Dubai. What we had was amazing, special, exhilarating, and a thousand other descriptors. It could not last, and after a last night of intense passion, I boarded my flight home, forever a changed man. At least I was finally able to sleep on my flight, tucked into a comfortable business class seat with a nice early-morning nightcap.
My outlook on life has changed, and in general I'm a happier, more alive person. I often reminisce, and find myself smiling. I'll never forget my time in Dubai with Ms. Hassani, such a welcoming, sexually-open women. I can only hope that her son, Faisal, never comes to know what his mother and I did, as it would tarnish even the dirtiest of minds, bringing shame to one's name for generations to come.
It surprises me how you actually took the time to write that ahahahahahhhahahahaha
at my friends place, there is a light above his ping pong table. and the light bulb went out, and my friend hit it with a ping pong paddle, and it turned back on.
This morning when I turned the shower dial to the hot water section the water initially came out cold instead of the hot temperature I clearly had selected. Life is a real roller coaster sometimes.
skiersupremeat my friends place, there is a light above his ping pong table. and the light bulb went out, and my friend hit it with a ping pong paddle, and it turned back on.
