This was to be my night - my special night. You had asked me to book this suite for us and now I sat on an easy chair waiting for you. I could look out of the circular windows to see the lights of the city sparkling in the cold February air or to see the silvery reflections of the moon in the river, but my eyes were now drawn irresistibly towards the stairs.
This was no ordinary hotel room - the hotel had been built into a much older building and it retained the circular room on the roof. Windows were on three sides. On the fourth side, stairs led up to a balcony from which you could look down on the king size bed below. It was to this balcony that my eyes were drawn. You had gone straight up there as soon as we arrived, cautioning me not to look upwards until you were ready. I opened the champagne provided by room service, poured two glasses and sat them down on the small table by the window and waited.
Then I heard you moving and I knew the long wait was over. I turned to see you above me, the red velvet dress clinging to your curves, the neckline cut to accentuate the swell of those wonderful breasts, the trim waist the softly curving swell of your hips and then your shapely legs encased, as i knew they would be, in smooth black stockings. You had dressed to please me and you could see in my eyes that the trouble and effort had not been in vain. My face a mask; reflecting my joy, my desire and raw lust which seeing you always developed inside me.
I watched, transfixed as you slowly descended the stairs, the tight skirt riding up as you descended, revealing tantalizing glimpses of lacey stocking tops. Everything was deliberate but subtle; you knew the way to my innermost desires and were playing them to the full. Each step was a sensual act, designed to kindle my wants and needs.
I felt my mouth go dry as you reached the floor, your black heeled shoes sinking into the rich pile of the carpet. Slowly, deliberately, you moved towards me; your eyes holding mine, daring me to try and look elsewhere but I could not.
Then you stopped. And paused, the silence in room was almost painful. I could hear my own heart thumping in my chest, but could not hear yours; just watched as your body slowly moved with your breathing. Your smile, a soft, sweet, sensual look which told of joys to come.
Then slowly, oh so slowly, you turned, revealing the back of the dress - a weave of thin straps which knitted the sides together like the laces of a shoe; the opening narrowing to a point as it met the soft swell of your buttocks.
You turned a complete 360 and that smile locked my eyes once again. A knowing smile that promised so much. I now had to fight with myself; fight to stop myself rising from the chair and simply grabbing you and throwing you onto the bed. But I had promised, promised to stay seated until you gave me permission to take an active role.
You reached down and picked up your glass of champagne and I watched carefully as you brought it to your lips then stared as your tongue slowly snaked out to sample the pale liquid. I could see the bubbles dance on your tongue before you slowly drank the contenst of the small flute.
You set the glass back down on the table, your eyes watching me; knowing that I would seek to look into the top of your dress, or the smooth creamy skin of your back, or the silky sheen of your stockinged legs (or all three). It was like being a voyeur; wanting to look, to see everything, but not wanting to be caught out.
As you stood before me, I watched your hands move to your hips before crossing over and start to move up you sides in a a self caress, a move I wanted so badly to do. How I yearned to feel you under that smooth velvet dress.
