"Chirp, chirp"
The distinctive notification of an incoming IM to her mobile brought up a small butterfly in Karen's gut. "That must be him," she thought. She reached into her purse and pulled out the handheld, nervously working through the menus to view the new message.
"Loden Hotel, Room 603. On Melville between Bute and Thurlow -- see you soon - Alex"
She keyed in the response, feeling the butterflies rise as she did: "Be there in about ten minutes -- Karen". As she pressed the send key a small thrill of anticipation rushed through her body. She hadn't been made love to in so long. Sure, she'd been fucked by her husband often enough, but that amounted to little more than a poke in the back in the morning and a "Honey, I'm horny" followed by a mount'n'ride session that left her completely unsatisfied. If not for her toys and the heat of the afternoon she'd never get any relief. If Alex was as good as the characters in his stories she felt the risk was worth it. There is, after all, no substitution for a real man who knows what he's doing. Walking down Georgia Street she felt as if all the eyes of the passerbys were on her, heading to her midday rendezvous and feeling deliciously naughty as she did. She adjusted her skirt slightly and picked up her pace.
As she walked through the foyer of the Loden the clerk glanced at her briefly, then returned to her occupation. "I wonder if she knows what I'm doing?" Karen said to herself. "How many of these trysts do they see on a weekly basis?" She pressed the call button, the elevator opened and she stepped in and pressed the 6 button. Riding up the elevator she reflected upon their first meeting. It was perfectly innocent. Lunch at the Italian Kitchen on Alberni the week before. He seemed like a nice guy. Married, committed, but also frustrated with his sex life at home. The way he ate and his passion for flavor had turned her on. Paul never seemed to want to try new foods. It was boring. Alex had a joie de vivre that was infectious. He seemed to have a passion for everything. When he proposed an afternoon encounter several days later she thought "why not. If it doesn't work out no harm, no foul". The elevator reached the 6th floor and she stepped out and strode down the hall, feeling the butterflies returning in force.
When Alex opened the door in response to her knock he was smiling broadly. "Welcome, come on in," he said as he stepped aside. The room was small but well appointed, including half a dozen candles placed around the room. "Would you like a glass of proseco?"
"Oh, uh, sure," she replied, nervously. He reached into an ice bucket and pulled out a bottle, unwrapped the cage and twisted out the cork. No shaking the bottle or popping the cork, just a calm and natural motion.
"Here you are," he said, handing her the glass after pouring two out and replacing the bottle in the bucket. They clinked a toast while looking each other in the eye. "How are you feeling, you still OK with this?" he asked. "It's not too late to back out."
"No, I want this," she said, sipping at the bubbly wine and feeling it tickle the back of her throat.
