Divine

It all began suddenly, one night. Upon returning to the hotel, the concierge brought him an ivory envelope sealed with red wax. Someone had left it for him. Who could have imagined that opening this letter would open up an entire world?

It was an invitation to a private, daring, and sensual party, reserved for a select few. It was true. Someone had told him about this secret Venice, a parallel world where refined guests met in luxurious residences to satisfy their most libertine desires, protected by the mystery of a mask. He went there like a wolf in the night, with Casanova’s blessing. He wanted to see Venice in that light too.

That night, he revealed many secrets, but two remain. The first: why they had chosen him. The second: who had brought that unforgettable fragrance that intoxicated him all evening.

He still remembers the password: Divine. He remembers the welcome: a touch of bergamot, from which the sensuality of ylang-ylang was already escaping, illuminated by a hint of mandarin. The door closed behind him and enveloped him in the seductive softness of rose, then in the heady marine notes as he entered the large, dimly lit hall. He felt as if Venus herself were rising from the waters at that very moment: everything became increasingly sensual, warmer than amber and vanilla, while passionate moss pressed close and sandalwood heated that fiery night.