Select, Grace


Relaxing. Mutual. Natural.


“What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” —Mary Oliver



That question floats through me like a mountain breeze. It’s the kind of line that finds its way into your chest and stays there, tucked between heartbeat and breath. And maybe, that’s what I’ll do too.



The Rockies lean in to kiss the pines. The moonlight wanders across cool riverbanks. I’ve created a sanctuary in the heart of my home, here in Colorado. One where connection isn’t rushed, where warmth isn’t pretended, and where you feel like yourself.



You’ll notice I smile slowly, like I’m letting you in. You’ll feel it before a word slips out of my pink lips. Plush and bare, like a secret you can’t quite say out loud. Golden locks spill down my back, catching the light like wildflower petals after the rain. My turquoise eyes, flecked with emerald, steady and soft, more question than answer. The noctilucent clouds above the peaks needn’t explain their beauty, neither do I.



Time ticks differently around me. Maybe it’s the altitude. Or the way I listen with my whole body. Laughter becomes a shared language.



Silence, too.



You’ll feel it when your shoulders drop.

When your guard dissolves. When being seen doesn’t feel like exposure, but like a deep exhale of fresh alpine air.



You’ll relax into something you didn’t know you needed:

A soft place to land.

A space without judgment.

A moment that doesn’t measure you.



Intimacy isn’t about what we do—it’s how we do it. Side by side. Breath by breath. In my company, sweet nothings become confessions. Those confessions become poems we write together. No paper, no pen. Just mutual presence.



You’ll carry a story.

Maybe not out loud.

Maybe not right away.

But I’ll be stored in your memory bank.

The kind of tale no one else gets to read.



Take my hand.

Even for just a night.

Let’s answer Mary’s question with something wild yet tender, and completely our own.