For a good friend
"Is Mr Foster here yet?"
The receptionist, pretty in an expensive way, looked up and nodded. The dreamy expression on her face was one she was used to seeing whenever Gregory was mentioned.
"He said for you to go right up." Was there a slight jealous tinge to her professional tones? Of course there was, again it was something she was used to. "It's suite 1995."
The key card was left on the desk just out of her reach and with a smile she hoped contained a sweetness she didn't feel she swept it up into her grasp.
The elevator attendant, tall, dark and handsome, touched his fingers to the peak of his cap as she requested the nineteenth floor and flipped open a metal flap on the controls before pressing the single button it concealed and smiling as they whizzed skywards.
No words were spoken during the journey but she knew she was observed as closely as she was observing. His smart white shirt amply emphasized his muscular chest and his tight pants left little to the imagination either. Her own black business suit and white silk shirt looked equally good she knew and the moments passed pleasurably until the lift jerked to a halt before the doors opened silently. Licking her lips as she left the elevator she winked, enjoying the smile she received in return.
Suite 1995, at the end of a lushly furnished hallway, occupied the entire floor and she made her way quickly towards her goal. Enjoying the opulence now she was no longer under scrutiny she smiled to herself, wanting to giggle and then doing so.
'Troubleshooting Financial Consultant.' It was a good job title, saying a little or a lot depending on how well you knew its owner. She thought she knew him as well as anyone, and in many ways he was still an enigma.
Gregory Foster, tall, greying, with kind warm cerulean eyes, was as generous out of bed as he was in it. Her satisfaction had always come first. He was also Gregory Foster, tall, black haired, steely blue eyes, hard as nails, at the negotiating tables or between the sheets. The deal was everything, and he always got everything he wanted.
The card slipped noiselessly through the slot and she heard the door unlock mechanically. Moving inside she looked around. The unlimited credit, the black Porche, the deftly passed £50 tip, or dazzling smile, all got him the best each and every establishment had to offer. In this case it was a suite of presidential proportions. Cream leather furniture, deep pile rugs on hard wood floors, original art on the walls. None of it mattered to her, at least not as much as the man asleep on one of the sumptuous sofas.
Slipping out of her blood red
Jimmy Choos
she padded across the room to drop to her knees in front of him. The jacket of his Saville Row suit was slung artfully across a nearby chair, his tie loosened so the top shirt button could be released.
Reaching up she ran a finger across the darkened outline of a nipple, smiling at the slight movement it caused in her companion. Again she repeated the action only this time her wrist was taken in a soft but determined grip.
"You are late." The eyes opened; twinkling, happy, and then he smiled. "I may have to punish you for that!"
She said nothing and he laughed.
"Of course, as that is what you hoped for, I could just ignore it, and see how that works."
She looked down, dark brown eyes suddenly finding the floor more than usually interesting.
"Come here, I've missed you."
Her lips were caught in a kiss before she could react. The roughness of his beard exciting her as it always did and fingers, resting in her hair, held her close. Their tongues duelled, dancing a passionate duet that neither wanted to stop. Gradually though, as both pairs of eyes opened, they moved apart.
"That's better. Don't like kissing Greek women when I can have you instead."
"Ahhh, yes, the fiscal deal of the century, well so far, were you successful?"
"I was, otherwise this would have been a lumpy mattress, two stained chairs and a room with a view of the motorway."
She laughed, he was an idiot, but only with her, and, not for the first time, she wondered at how total a change he was able to engineer to be the globally recognized figure the world of high finance knew and admired.
"So, we have the whole weekend and no one knows we're here, at least no one important. What would you like to do first?"
His eyes crinkled as part of his warm smile and held her own as she felt herself smile back.
"Could we have a little look around first? I'd also like to slip into something more comfortable as they say."
"Of course. I can refuse you nothing, you know that." He got to his feet and indicated with his hand that she should precede him. The lounge was bigger than the one she had at home, the flat screen TV the same. Soft jazz was playing in the background and she felt herself being pulled close as he began to gently dance with her.
By the time the music stopped she wanted it to continue forever. Her head felt so at home against his chest, his hand, warm against her back, gave her a security she seldom felt without him and looking up she spoke quietly.
"Thank you."
"You are very welcome, after you."
Once again she moved forward, this time entering the bedroom and hearing herself gasp.
The bed, an ornamental beauty that would have been equally at home in a room at Versailles, dominated the room and drew her towards it. She placed a small hand against the covers, her nails, the same blood red as her shoes, contrasting with the gold brocade.
"Wow."
"That was pretty much my reaction too. So, do you think we can do the bed justice?"
"Oh, I'm sure we can. Bathroom?"
In many ways the smallest room in each suite they stayed in was her favourite. She loved finding out what type of bath it had, whether they could both fit in it, whether the shower would accommodate them in the same way. Gregory's face relaxed into an excited grin and she knew the bed was just a taster of what was to come.
