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My husband.

My wife.

These next two days

won't go by fast enough.

Hey, lay off the guy!

He isn't being conscripted here.

We're just a bunch of marketing guys

holing up at the Rixos in Antalya.

You haven't given us two seconds

to say a proper goodbye.

Zeynep, I can always stay behind.

Nutcase, what do I want with you!

Let my husband stay.

C'mon, enough!

You're making me jealous.

- My bag.

- Your bag.

- I'll call the second we land.

- OK.

And careful with the car, ha!

OK, guys. Let's see some hostesses

to get us flying for real!

Are they all blondes?

I'll save you the blonde.

Take your pick, guys.

- Whoa, babes like out of a book!

- Talking of books, shut that.

Look, count me out of this, please.

Guys, I'll kill anyone

who touches this blonde.

I'll check out the vibe

once we're there.

So long as the vibe

doesn't pass you up.

C'mon! There's five girls here

and we're four studs, plus Ferhat.

But listen, that blonde is mine.

Ferhat, how can anyone

not be into these dames?

Go on, pick one.

- This one.

- Not so fast, she's mine.

Look at you, picking a girl

whose face you can't see!

You mean, 'I've seen her from behind,

I'll just roll her right over.' Whoa!

- Fasten your seatbelts please.

- Hey, we're taking off.

Guys, enjoy flying.

- We aren't late, are we?

- No, c'mon, for the love of...

Leave the loving to Ferhat.

Tonight's about play, not love.

Ceren, you're with Emre.

Emre, get cosy there.

Whichever one of you is hottest,

get cracking on Ferhat.

Well? Where's my girl?

We rented a car, she's parking.

She'll be right here.

So you came from Istanbul too?

Renting a car and stuff...

Sure, it's kind of

a business trip for us too.

Let's forget business tonight, guys.

Here comes my love.

Hey, wasn't tonight about play,

not love?

Cool down.

My idea of love is all play.

But the choosing is done.

She's mine or you're mangled.

Let me introduce you.

Guys, Nazl.

- Nazl. Hi. Murat.

- Hi, Murat.

- I'm Emre.

- Hi, Emre.

- Hseyin.

- Hi, Hseyin.

Nazl.

Ferhat.

- What are you drinking?

- Whisky.

- With two ice cubes.

- No, straight up.

Whoa, tonight is going to be so hot.

Ferhat Bey, your phone.

Ferhat Bey, your phone.

Ferhat Bey, your phone is ringing.

My husband,

I miss you so much.

Me too.

It's really noisy here.

The guys insisted on us partying.

Well, good for them.

Get partying.

Come back having partied,

rested and missed me, OK?

Promise?

Promise.

My husband,

I feel kind of weird here.

You feel weird?

How come, sweetheart?

Our bed is so big, my husband.

Big?

Yes. It's the first time

I'm sleeping without you, right?

I'm lost in the bed without you.

Anyway, I'm just jabbering.

Go on, get partying.

But miss me, OK?

Party, but miss me too.

I'm jabbering again.

OK, I'm hanging up.

Have a good time.

Good night, sweetheart.

Zeynep.

I love you.

More than me?

C'mon, let's drink.

What are we drinking to?

- To play.

- OK, let's drink!

Get that guy charged, Mine.

Go on.

OK, we get the message.

So he loves his wife but...

That's life,

other halves get anxious.

Why are we talking about marriage?

Don't worry,

I won't tell your wife.

Being married

is bad enough in itself.

But being in love with your wife

is even worse.

You're married and you have

a woman like this looking at you.

Why don't you look at me like that

when we're making love?

Don't I?

No, you always close your eyes

in ecstasy.

This woman could turn you into a poet.

Don't you think?

Wait, I want to ask something.

Does anyone here write poetry?

I always wanted to,

but then I ended up in marketing.

- I'd say Ferhat Bey does for sure.

- What makes you say that?

Well, your silence

is a poet's silence.

Whoa, listen to that!

I did in the past.

In high-school days.

I have a hunch you still do.

You want to read poetry?

But no one writes it.

Like you said,

they did at high school.

You know, 'first love' poems

and stuff.

C'mon, read one. Some bull artist

must've written something.

C'mon, Nazl!

Go for it!

In the blind darkness...

Even in sleep...

The caress of your eye

burning my skin...

Tormenting my heart...

Your eyes when we make love...

Are so beautiful.

No one could write a poem to your eyes

more beautiful than that.

Come here, c'mon.

Why do you do it?

Do what?

Why? Are you going to

divorce your wife for me?

Is that the first question you ask

after all these years?

Look, honey.

I'm a hooker

and you're a good boy.

Whatever happened tonight happened,

end of story.

And then there's real life.

Whatever we are, that's how we act.

I mean things are what they are. OK?

Things are what they are.

Yes, things are what they are.

You don't even know

the price of a hooker.

Prick!

My husband. Ah, were you asleep?

I'm sorry.

No, honey.

I couldn't sleep.

- I'm sitting in my room. It's OK.

- Poor love.

What's up?

Who was keeping you awake?

You couldn't sleep alone, could you?

Neither could I, so I'm finishing up

that kids' book I'm late with.

Anyway, get some sleep.

You have meetings tomorrow. Kisses.

You know what the punishment is

for stealing a woman from another man?

No, what's that?

Death.

So what are you going to do?

Kill me?

You think I'd kill you

over a hooker?!

But boy, did you move fast!

I'm sorry.

What's done is done.

Why not say from the start

you fancied her?

OK, I warned you off,

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