Waiting tables for the remainder of the evening lasted an eternity. Being assigned his area was torture. Every visit brought further arousal, every course further twitching, every drink order flashbacks.
She was a professional, she took to her tasks. Trying not to make eye contact, she needed to concentrate. Okay a quick glance, the smallest look as she passed.
He talked authoritatively to his guests as she served. His voice made her melt inside. That accent. She could listen to him talk for hours. He held court, guests waiting on every word, she only heard the slightest of stumbles when she bent to pick up a guest's dropped fork. This gave her a warm feeling inside.
The keycard in her pocket which dug into her thigh served as a pleasurable reminder of their earlier interlude. It dug into her much like his finger nails. Her ripped tights were a delightful irritation. She could feel the cool air on the tear. Part of her wished she packed a spare pair though. She hoped no one could see.
At 11pm the guests departed and the maitre d gathered the staff. The support had been delayed and the waiting team need to assist the tidying of the venue. No help no pay. She rolled her eyes and pouted. She was conflicted, It wasn't as much a choice as an order and she did need the money. They cleared rapidly but the key card still burned red hot in her pocket.
Finishing at midnight she should have been exhausted, but she was alive with excitement. Nerves started to take hold. Should she really use the card he'd left in her pocket? Earlier she had been swept up in the moment but now having time to think she was conflicted. Her family, the excuses...how could she explain?
Her memory of his steely blue eyes, breath on her neck and him powerfully inside her made her decision easier.
The staff were leaving and calling, she made her excuses and exited to the shower room to freshen. It was all she could do to control herself as she showered. The warm water pulsing on her bruised body served as reminders of his touch, his nails, his teeth. Painful pleasure pulsed through her.
Fresh now, she returned to her black uniform, and shoved her ripped tights into the bin on the way out the door. She made her way through the hotel lobby towards the lift. Her cheeks reddened as she passed a quizzical doorman, but after the flash of her key card he lost immediate interest. Stood by the lift she was joined by two drunk male party guests who immediately attempted to engage her in conversation. Rolling her eyes, again she pressed fifteen. Her stomach churned as the lift rose, it wasn't too late to bail. He might not be interested. He's probably asleep. Thirteen fourteen Fifteen.
She walked along the corridor, key in hand. It was the last door, of course it was the last door. She stood outside listening, heart thumping, cheeks flushed. Should she knock or just herself in. What was she doing? She didn't even know his name.
Light of a television shone from under the door. She hoped he wasn't asleep. If he was she would just leave. Taking a deep breath she inserted the pass key.
The door opened and the television immediately clicked off. He was sat on a wingback chair,
Shoes and jacket off, shirt buttons undone, bowtie still hanging loosely around his neck. He smiled. She knew she hadn't made a mistake.
Heart racing she stood there stupidly looking at him for what felt like an eternity
"I'm sorry I'm late. I..."
"How sorry?" he cut in.
Her nerves abated instantly at the sound of his voice.
"Sorry sir, I'm this sorry..."
She dropped to her knees and crawled slowly towards him. Glint in her eye. Smile addressing the corners of her mouth. She made sure that her cleavage was front and centre, button popped on her shirt, she was glad she'd spent an inordinate amount of time this morning choosing her black underwear. Her ass moved in an exaggerated wiggle as she crawled.
Reaching him she sat on her heels and looked at him with big eyes.
She tried to maintain eye contact but couldn't help glancing at his pants and took tremendous joy when she saw what wasn't so much as a twitch but a heave.
He gestured ever so slightly for her to stand.
She stood slowly as he rose from the chair.
His warm breath on her face and she smelt a hint of wine and Colgate and yes shower products. She realized that sneakily he'd freshened up too.
She fought the urge to kiss him first. She wanted his control, him to take charge. He leaned in and disappointed by kissing her softly. Romance is not what she needed tonight. Her husband was distant lately. He never held her anymore, never looked at her. He worked away more and those late night phone calls he took...
She kissed him harder biting his tongue encouraging him to be rougher, tongue flicking and probing his mouth.She wanted to be taken , wanted to be fucked, wanted him to take control. Her life was full of constant decision making. She wanted to give herself completely, not have to think, just obey.
Popping two more of his buttons she ran her hands across his chest stopping to squeeze his nipple roughly. As he was stroking her chestnut hair she was transported back to childhood safety. "Good girl" he whispered in her ear. Urgh she melted.
Unsure of what came over her, blushing she nervously whispered "Can I call you Daddy?"
"Of course... Would you like to sit on my lap?"
"Yes, Daddy ", she purred.
Leaning back, he guided her to follow, encouraging with with the slightest touch to her waist. Goosebumps rose on her arms. Hitching her skirt, she sat astride him feeling him pressed against her cotton panties. Hard bulge digging into her groove.
