You walk into the old, ornate hotel, it's ancient, distinguished character at odds with the modern touches, a crass attempt to cater to the crowds of the 21st century. All old, stately hand-carved oak pressing up against hard, mass-produced modern glass.
Brushing past the bellboy, one of the few hotels which still has such a luxury in this day & age of electronics & automation, and striding across the re-finished wood floors, softly reflecting the light of the modern-art-piece chandelier above, and bridged in the center by a large, luxurious oriental rug peppered with huge armchairs & equally salted with bright, white, uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs, you come to a halt in front of the elevator & jab the up arrow sharply with one finger.
The old elevator clunks & clanks its way up the shaft it has traveled thousands upon thousands of times before, and grinds to a halt on the second-to-last floor; 12.
You step through the doors just as they open, your shoulders brushing up against them in your hurry to arrive at your destination
You stride down the hall, and stop directly in front of my door....
Just on the other side, seated on a low bench facing a vanity mirror, dressed in a thin, black silk neglige, with my erect nipples forming hard peaks beneath the fabric, I release my hair from its clasp, letting it dark wavy, silken lenths tumble down my back, the smooth strands caressing my skin through the soft fabric.
I brush the back of my hand over my hard, aching nipples; hungry, beneath the silky, spider-web-thin material, for the caress of a man's strong, gentle hands. Or his mouth...
I pause, glancing at myself in the antique vanity mirror, and purse my lips. I glide a deep, Ruby red Lipstick across them and smooth the edges with a finger, running it along the outline of my full, soft lips.
Imagining a different object pushing gently but insistently at my softly parted lips, trying to find its way inside to the welcoming warmth within.
You knock sharply, abruptly breaking me from my reverie. Shaking my head slightly, to clear the last clouds of the daydream from my head, I hop up to answer the door.
At the last moment, I catch myself, remembering I am scantily clad only in my silky lingerie, so skimpy as to barely cover my ample chest, and stretching over my full hips & ass, accentuating my slender waist and hourglass curves which lie beneath.
Pausing, I pull the fluffy, white hotel robe from the hook on the back of the bathroom door, and then stand on my tippy toes to peek through the peep hole & see who is knocking.
I wasn't expecting anyone, except for my girlfriend, who I didn't anticipate returning for a few hours yet; and besides, she had a room key.
Through the slightly warped & blurry peephole, I see a handsome, well built man, with wide shoulders, a strong jaw, handsome face, and intelligent, deep-set eyes glinting with...something?
What?
Frustration? Impatience? Anger? Humor? Excitement?
Intensity, certainly-but, there is something more there, as well.
I can't tell through the peephole what emotion smolders deep within your eyes; but I am taken aback by the way you gaze determinedly at me through the door, almost as though you can see right through its thick, old oak frame to me on the other side
Suddenly, unexpectedly, I am dizzy. I realize I have been holding my breath since I first caught a glimpse of you, standing on the other side of my door. You knock again; louder, more insistent-impatient, almost. A man not used to having to wait for anything, I think, mildly amused. Then, emarasssment floods me, tinting my cheeks a rosy, blushing pink, as I realize that just as you knocked the second time, I exhaled sharply & then gasped (probably loudly) and gulped down the air my lungs had been screaming out for.
"He probably heard me! Now he knows I have been standing here admiring him-well, perhaps not that, but he will at least know I have been standing here watching him, instead of responding, or opening the door, like a normal human being & not a ditzy, speechless schoolgirl in front of a crush!", I admonish myself.
"Who is it? Just a moment!" I quaver out. "I'm...just stepping out of the shower!"
STUPID!
My hair isn't wet, not even the little tendrils I can never seem to keep out of the spray, no matter how hard I try. Bone dry, not even damp. The only place I am wet is somewhere I don't care to acknowledge at the moment-especially in such close proximity to this disarmingly handsome stranger.
I pull the robe more tightly around myself & open the door, peeking out into the hallway at you.
"Can I help you...?" I stammer, slightly abashed & taken aback.
However, this shyness is quickly pushed aside by irritation, as tou brushed past me & walk right in to my room as though you own the place.
"Where IS she...???" You glower.
Your eyes have already scanned; taken in; dismissed the room; and now, you walk purposefully towards the bathroom door, still ajar from my hasty snatch of the bathrobe.
You push the door open, and quickly ascertain there is no one inside.
"WHERE is my wife?" You ask with a scowl, turning on your heel to face me.
"Uuuummm...WHO IS..." my voice trails off, as I recognize you.
My friends new husband.
I met you briefly at the wedding, a little over a year ago. I recognize you now.
My face flushes, uncomfortable
I know she is out with another man. Or, rather, IN. In bed, that is...
Getting railed right now, in his hotel room. "Can't go to HIS house; HE'S married, TOO!" She had flippantly told me earlier, laughing back over her shoulder as she waltzed out the door not even an hour before, flipping her long, silky, platinum-blonde hair back over her shoulder, diamond earrings (a honeymoon gift from you, she had said, when I picked her up that morning, chortling devilishly) glinting in the rays of sunlight streaming into the hallway from the large skylight overhead.
To be continued...
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