The sound of the bell going off makes me look up from the press release I am proofing and my gaze wanders to the double doors. Soon those doors will open and all the conference attendees will pour out to make small talk and close big deals over the contents of the morning coffee break.
Two days of being at this conference has already tired me of having to mingle with these people, but I have a job to do, and so I put on my brightest smile, straighten my skirt and walk up to the PR Hospitality booth.
I feel a twinge of a sweet longing between my legs as I begin to walk and this time my smile comes involuntarily, slow and shy. My fingers go up to my neck, running over the tiny little marks over my neck. My eyes sweep the room as I stand by the desk where my team is handing out reading materials for the afternoon session.
I feel my breath catch in my throat for a beat as my eyes finally find you across the room, some 20 steps away from me. They hungrily devour the image of you Âstarting from you brown hair turning silver at the temples, and to your blue eyes which are currently paying attention to the young woman talking to you, and then wandering down to your hands and his fingers. I gulp, remembering what those hands could do, and so to avoid getting carried away I move my gaze back up to your face again, only to find your eyes looking back at me.
I blush, somewhere a part of my brain is chiding me for blushing like a schoolgirl, but with your eyes locked on mine I can't help myself and I find myself smiling shyly. Your lips curve and your eyes soften and now I grin in earnest as I know that like me, you are also recalling the events of last night.
-
Hotel lobby bars go quiet around half past midnight  the best time to wrap up the paperwork from the day's events before calling it quits. My good friend, Glenlivet, keeps me company and as I signÂoff on the last release, I feel someone pull up the bar stool next to mine and sit down. Annoyed to have my silent haven trespassed upon; I look up, wanting to call for the barkeep and settle my tab.
The first thing I notice about the man sitting next to me is his suit. Charcoal grey, it is cut to fit his body well and he wears it effortlessly. When he smiles at me, I realize he isn't drunk or lecherous like most men in hotel bars during conferences are. His eyes are sharp and his smile sincere. "It's rare to see a woman enjoying a good whiskey nowadays. Scotch or Single malt?" he asks and I immediately weaken a little hearing his British accent.
"Single malt," I reply, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy around this handsome man. I've been so busy working these last few years that I seemed to have forgotten how to flirt.
"Something tells me there's a good story behind that tattoo", he says pointing to my right ankle that I'm shaking nervously as I sit cross legged on the bar stool.
I laugh, and sensing my nervousness he changes gears and we chat about the conference for a bit until I feel his finger caress my ankle, outlining my tattoo slowly. My first instinct is to get up and go, but I ignore it. With his other hand he pushes my drink towards me, "Have another sip," he says.
There is no mistaking his tone; he has just ordered me to drink. His fingers now wet with the cold condensation of my glass, run over my tattoo again, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. I feel my breath come out in a short loud gasp and he smiles, but it's a different smile now, it's smug  as if he's won this round.
As I take another sip of the smooth whiskey, he settles up with the barkeep. "Let's go upstairs," he says. Again, not asking, but telling. I bristle inwardly, why am I listening to this man?! Â I think to myself. But my legs uncross themselves and I slide off the stool, grabbing my bag and following him to the elevators.
In the elevator, he taps his keycard and leans against the back wall. There are mirrors everywhere, I am standing next to him and I can feel his gaze running over my body. While usually the thought of a man undressing me with his eyes gives me the creeps, this time a part of me is secretly hoping that he is doing just that.
As we arrive at his floor, he puts his hand firmly on the small of my back and directs me to his room. Once inside, I place my bag down on the table and walk to the window to admire the view. "I'm going to have one drink with him and then I am leaving", I lecture myself. Much later, I would chuckle remembering how I'd unknowingly lost all control over myself the minute he sat down next to me at that bar.
--
I feel you come up behind me, the hairs on the back of my neck stand as I feel your breath and then your lips on my neck. Expecting a kiss, I am shocked when your teeth graze and slowly pull against the skin of my neck; my hands come up to try and make you stop, but you gently grab both my wrists, pinning them against my ass and between our bodies. I am even more surprised when the sweet pain of your bite causes me to let out a moan. You move down my neck and onto my shoulder kissing, sucking, biting - marking me with your mouth.
Eventually your lips reach mine. You let go of my wrists and your hands move to my hips. They slip underneath my skirt and I feel you pulling down my panties. When they are around my ankles and with my skirt bunched up against my hips, you place your hand firmly on the back of my neck pushing slowly till I am bent over the foot of the bed, bracing myself against my elbows.
The first slap to my bottom comes quick and hard. I yelp, mostly in shock and confusion, but I do not resist it. I can feel your even breathing slowly get faster as you rain smacks down on my bare buttocks with your palm. The sting, the burn, the impact of each blow making me breathless, making my knees go weak, and making me want more. The noises I make are now a mix of yelps and moans betraying my frustration and desperation.
