The slip of imported paper shook in his hand as he stood waiting for the elevator. Shaking hands were something he had gotten used to on the drive to Bal Harbor, his mind cluttered with thoughts that she wouldn’t be there, that he wouldn’t be on time; or even worse, that she would be and he would be prompt. The Sea View Hotel was located right off the beach on Collins Avenue, a busy strip at all times of the year. It was one of those upscale hotels that he would pass, wondering which celebrities were within it’s walls, now here he stood, waiting.
The elevator attendant’s voice startled him, "Sir?" He flung his overnight bag over his shoulder and stepped inside, directing the attendant to the 14th floor. Looking up at the gold panel above the doors, the floors pass slowly, adding to his self inflicted torture. He shook his head. "What am I doing?" he thought to himself, "I’ve wanted this since the first day I saw her, this is ridiculous." The resounding bell signaling the stop of the elevator broke him once more, he nods to the attendant and steps into the corridor of suites. He glances at his watch, one minute till four, he exhales and walks towards the suite at the far end of the hall; Suite No. 1.
Knowing the instructions by heart, he looks at them once more, maybe out of nervousness, or contempt; wondering which role he should be playing at this point. Deciding he should let the situation mark the path, he turns the handle on the door and pushes it open as instructed, stepping into the enormous room.
The silence in the room was deafening to him as he placed his bag on the floor next to the door; with a brush of his hand closing it at the same time. The large bay window drew him closer, spectacular views of both Bal Harbor Village and Biscayne Bay lay before his eyes. To his right, soft white linen curtains blew inward from the open balcony doors to which he strolled. The brilliant aroma of the air from this height had a calming affect, his strong hands grasp the railing, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply. Agonizing over her absence his mind drifts to their beginning.
Passing his time online, searching for something missing in his life, as so many others do; he ran across her picture. Something in her eyes caught his, just for a moment. He shook it off, just another face behind a nick. Of course, she couldn’t be one of the accessible ones, no, she had to be a site monitor; never sitting still long enough to carry on a conversation. Changes incurred and suddenly there she was, in his favorite room, playing around with her friends, his friends. Subtle innuendoes passed between them on occasion, a fleeting glance, a smirk, some cheekiness on her part; he just had to ask "I’d like to get to know you better sometime," he had whispered to her in private. She responded in kind, wishing the same; he will never know the race of her pulse as she answered.
They had spent some time together in the ensuing evenings, playing the get-to-know-you game, Twenty questions to find the true person behind the words. They had hit it off instantly. Just a teeny problem of her not only being married but being owned by her online Master as well. Thankfully her Master was kind and allowed her to play with certain others while He was gone. And so they did.
Their scenes switched from Dom/sub to equals and back again, incredible mindfucking scenes that linger into real time for hours afterward. Days, nights, fleeting moments passed; somedays they spent hours just chatting, others they barely caught each other in passing. One lazy afternoon the words popped on his screen "I will be in Miami a week from Friday." He almost fell from his chair. Can she really be so close to him and he not touch her?, impossible.
She had planned everything to perfection. Her husband was meeting some friends for the evening and she decided to take a "trip" to see some old friends. The night to herself, the night to him.
The invitation came to his office by courier in a plain white envelope, minutes after he arrived. Softly scented paper, beautifully scripted handwriting with nothing more than a time, a place and the words ` Don’t be late, time is precious’. He made some excuse to his boss, went home and gave his wife the same one; packed a bag, straightened his tie and hopped in the car without a second thought.
Water was running from somewhere inside the suite, jarring him from his thoughts. His heart pounded as he tightened his grip on the railing one last time, took a deep breath and went back inside. She was in the bathroom, the door slightly ajar, revealing nothing more than the marble covering the floors and vanity. He took a step forward and, as if by cue, her voice spoke to him, "uh uh uh...Room Service will be arriving momentarily, please sign for it and wait for me." He could hear the mischief she was trying to hide in her voice and responded with the same aire, "yes Ma’am." He caught his reflection in the mirror on the wall, the knowing smirk seemingly glued to his lips as he strolled around the suite. A Tiffany turtle lamp on the table near the chaise was lit, a large king sized bed was barely visible through French doors on his left. He walked past them, running his fingertips over the soft comforter when the knock came on the door.
"Sign here please," said the young waiter, dressed to the nines. He took the gold plated pen and signed quickly, handing the boy a twenty for his services as he returned form wheeling the cart into the room. "Thank you, that will be all," a smile on his lips as he closed the door and walked over to the black linen covered cart. Champagne was chilling in the bucket on the side of the tray. Silver domes covered the contents, he lifted one about an inch when a door slammed shut.
He closed his eyes and placed the dome back in it’s place before turning. There she stood, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door; His eyes started from the bottom. Elegant black heels, black stockinged legs that seemed to go on forever, Her dress was a black sleeveless sheath that hugged her curves marvelously. On her neck was a thin silver choker which, upon further inspection, would prove to be the most exquisite of collars. Her long red hair upswept, held by those hair accessories women wear that resemble chopsticks. A few escaped locks, resting against the pale skin of her neck, her arms crossed in front of her and the most devilish look he had ever seen on a woman was found on her face.
The clock struck five as if it was meant to break the moment. She spoke first, "Good Evening, hungry?"
