Chapter 87 Dar Al Noor, house of light.
For their first night out in Marrakech, Serena chose something effortless but striking, a flowing ivory silk slip dress that skimmed her figure. The fabric was so soft and fluid, the neckline low but elegant, the slit along her thigh revealing just enough leg as she walked. She paired it with delicate gold jewelry and strappy heels, her hair in loose waves that fell over her shoulders, giving her that quiet, captivating kind of beauty.
Trisha, on the other hand, leaned fully into the night’s energy. She wore a sleek black satin mini dress with a sculpted bodice and thin straps, the hemline bold and playful. Her look was finished with glossy heels and statement earrings.
Together, they looked like two different versions of a perfect portrait stepping into the night.
“Madam Trisha, Madam Serena,” Karim said, clasping his hands together as he gave a small respectful nod. “You both look marvelous…the Marrakech charm has started already.”
Trisha tilted her head slightly, a playful smile touching her lips. “Karim, you don’t look so bad yourself,” she replied smoothly.
Karim chuckled at that, his gaze immediately dropping to the ground, a hint of shyness creeping into his expression.
Serena caught the reaction and, sensing his discomfort, cleared her throat softly before glancing toward the waiting car.
“Shall we?” she said.
“Oh,” Karim finally said as he slowly looked up, “we have to wait for Mr. Damian.”
“Damian’s at the office, Karim,” Serena replied.
Karim started to respond, but a deep voice cut him off.
“No, I’m not.”
They all turned toward the hotel entrance just as Damian and Oscar stepped out. Both men dressed in traditional Moroccan attire, flowing djellabas, the lightweight fabric moving softly as they walked. Damian’s was a deep charcoal with subtle embroidery along the collar, while Oscar’s was a rich sand color that suited the golden glow of the lanterns around them.
“You guys look amazing,” Serena laughed. “And I thought you were still in the office.”
“Thank you,” Damian answered, walking up to her side. “And to answer your question, we couldn’t let you enjoy a night out in this beautiful city all alone.”
Trisha laughed, “If you had told us you were going traditional we would have dressed to match.”
“You both look stunning, there’s no need to change,” Oscar said, crossing a hand over Trish’s neck.
Damian made a face as he sighted the hand placement but decided to ignore it.
Turning to Karim, Oscar said “Lead the way my brown friend.”
Trisha nudged him, “Don’t be rude.” She murmured.
“Perhaps you all would prefer to take a walk instead of using the car?” Karim inquired.
“I think that’s a better option,” Damian answered for the group.
As they strolled into the city in pairs, he and Serena followed slowly behind, their hands mere inches apart.
Now and then, their fingers brushed against one another. “You really do look breathtaking tonight,” he muttered.
“Thank you, you don’t look bad yourself.”
When they had walked a few blocks down, they took one final turn, entering a narrow walkway covered in mosaic tiles, the faint scent of spices drifted from inside and seeped out into the night air.
Karim turned around and cleared his throat, “First on tonight’s activity list, we will be having dinner at Dar Al Noor. It’s one of the most famous traditional dining places in Marrakech. They are known for their special spices and secret recipes that go back generations.”
From the outside, Dar Al Noor, seemed almost hidden but when you got closer, the palm fronds opened up to reveal the busy warmly lit building. Around it, warm golden lights spilled from hanging brass lanterns, hinting at the soft music, carpets, and candlelit courtyards waiting inside.
“Please take off your shoes, put them in here, and come with me,” Karim said, already taking his own shoes off and placing them neatly in a small wooden locker propped against the side of the building.
“We can’t go in with our shoes?” Oscar asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, Mr. Oscar,” the waitress replied, opening the restaurant door from inside. Her voice was calm but firm. “Here, eating is sacred, and you cannot enter wearing the footwear you’ve used to walk the streets.”
“Okay then, princess. Whatever you say.” Oscar replied with a flirtatious smile causing the waitress’s cheeks to redden as she blushed.
Trisha scoffed at the exchange and brushed past them and into the restaurant, stomping her bare feet as she followed Karim closely behind.
Damian whispered, “What’s going on with those two?”
“What do you mean?” Serena responded, her heart skipping a bit. Damian could not find out about Trisha and Oscar’s connection.
Inside, they were handed soft fuzzy slippers to slip on. The floor was properly tiled, so their feet made little to no sound as they padded across the restaurant to their table.
They gathered around a low wooden table, surrounded by white floor cushions and poufs.
Damian lowered himself into one of the cushions first, folding one leg in front of the other as he balanced himself, the others followed his lead.
“It’s actually more comfortable than it looks, Serena chimed.”
“Yes, and it helps for better and faster digestion,” Karim added.
“Really, don’t let the girls in my gym hear about this.” Trisha laughed.
Karim chuckled, he always blushed at Trisha’s childlike reaction to all the things he showed them. It’s things like that that led him to become a travel concierge, showing his beautiful country to foreigners brought him too much joy.
“Since this is your first night, I’ve instructed the chef to start you off on the basics, to ease your palate into the Moroccan delicacies.” He said, motioning to the servers.
A pair of waiters appeared carrying trays of steaming dishes. One knelt briefly at each place, bowing slightly before setting the food down.
“This is harira, a light tomato and lentil soup,” the first server explained, pouring a little into shallow bowls. “It’s gentle on the palate and a traditional starter.”
The second held a tray of small, golden briouats, triangular pastries filled with spiced chicken and almonds. “These are for tasting,” he said softly, “crispy on the outside, tender inside.”
Karim smiled at Serena and Trisha. “See? We start simple. Tonight is just to familiarize yourselves with the flavors.”
Serena lifted her spoon of soup, inhaling the fragrant aroma. Trisha popped a briouat into her mouth, her eyes widening. “Wow… this is actually amazing,” she whispered.
Damian’s hand hovered briefly over the dishes before he picked up a spoon and fetched some of the soup. “Patience,” he murmured with a small smile. “You have to savor each bite.”
“Exactly Mr Damian,” Karim’s eyes twinkled, picking up a second briouat, “eating is almost like making love, you have to take your time and let the flavors consummate in your mouth.”
“Hmm you are right,” Serena said rolling her eyes back, taking out another piece of sauced meat from the pot of tagine.
The table fell into a quiet rhythm, the soft clinking of spoons on bowls mixing with the flute playing in the background. The first tastes of the city settling gently over them.