Object of Desire

The male parts in this tag story are written by NotReallySure.

Object of Desire

He:

I stepped out from the elevator into the hotel lobby. I had no idea why I was even there, except that I knew that if I didn't do it, I would regret it the rest of my life.

It all started out so innocently. I had read a story on Literotica which caught my eye. This led me to the bio page of a female writer, who had published a number of other stories as well. I found myself looking up from my computer, a half hour later, after finishing the last one.

There was something about the stories which captured my imagination. They were all ostensibly biographical, but the writer had been careful to avoid any description of the main character in her stories. However, there was something about them that conjured up a powerful image, of an incredibly sexy woman.

As I lie awake that night in bed, before drifting off to sleep, I found myself fantasizing about the woman from the stories. In my dream, she was straddled over me, her face close to mine, nipples brushing gently across my chest. Despite the lack of any physical description, I found myself imagining a very specific woman in my fantasies, with long brown hair, soft sensual skin, and breasts which were just large enough to swing pendulously below her as she rocked her hips.

The fantasy unfolded further, my imagination wandering freely as I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, it was as if I had spent the entire night in the embrace of this mysterious woman.

The next day, I sent my unknown author an email, expressing my thanks for sharing her erotic visions with me. After all, it was the least I could do to repay her for having provided me with such a wonderfully sexy focus for my fantasies. I assumed that it would all end there, or perhaps with a brief note of thanks in recognition.

However, it seems that this woman had other ideas. She seemed to like the idea of being a focus for my fantasies. She even sent me a (censored) photo of herself. And after a brief exchange of pleasantries (and teases), she decided to go me one further – she told me she was sending me a video clip related to my fantasy. Almost without warning, it appeared in my inbox.

I have to admit that, when she first said that she was sending me a clip related to the fantasy that I described to her, I was somewhat skeptical. After all, reality is seldom (if ever) as satisfying as fantasy, and it was hard for me to see how a video clip downloaded from the web could add much to the experience. So it was with some hesitation that I opened the file that she sent.

I was wrong. Really wrong.

The clip was not LIKE my fantasy. It was EXACTLY my fantasy. It was the woman from my fantasy, down to almost every last detail.

The man in the video (not surprisingly) didn't do much for me. But the woman. Ohhhh, the woman. Grinding herself onto him as she bent over him, nipples grazing his chest. Kissing passionately as every possible inch of exposed skin slid in exquisite contact. Her right arm wrapped tenderly around his head. And then the little gesture that really got to me - the sensuous flip of the right wrist, the hand deftly tucking some stray hair behind her lovely ear. Then straightening up to take him deeper, her head rearing back, knees rearranging themselves to clasp his sides and support her weight, her hips undulating with the rhythm.

My mouth was hanging open when it finished. After I got over my original astonishment - and arousal - I rewound it to watch it again. Whereupon I was faced with even more surprises. My thoughts as I watched it through for the second time were:

What a goddess. The most erotic thing I'd ever seen. She looked almost familiar, somehow. Hmmm, the shoulder-length brown hair. You know, I must be crazy. I only saw a photo from the front, mostly clothed. If I didn't know better, it could just possibly be the same woman, naked from behind. Hmmmm. The camera angle was fixed, as if someone who set it up in their bedroom to tape themselves. Glancing down at the filename - "Trina6". Nooooo, it couldn't be....... Could it????

I have to say, just the thought (however unlikely) that it might actually be her made me instantly...... well, it made me. With chills running up and down my spine at the same time.

I didn't know what to say. Except that I found it incredibly difficult to get any real work done for the rest of that day.

We continued to exchange emails for the next few weeks. I don't know what kept her writing, but I was absolutely enthralled at being let into the mind of a woman who actually liked sex, and was happy to encourage my fantasies. Of course, I knew the difference between fantasy and reality, and was careful not to step over the line. But somewhere along the way, the distinction became blurred – I found myself wondering about the possibility of actually meeting this woman some day. Sex wasn't the issue – I was fascinated at the idea of having the opportunity to round out my picture of her, to experience the whole, to hear her voice and maybe feel the touch of her fingertips.

The opportunity came sooner than I expected. I had a business meeting scheduled in her city, with the chance to extend my trip for a day without incurring any undue curiosity from my coworkers. Did I dare even suggest it?

I agonized over it for a night. As I drove to work the next day, I still hadn't decided. But as I sat down at my computer, I found myself composing a note. I suggested that we meet in a public place, where she would feel safe. I simply wanted to see her, to experience her in person.

I don't even remember what else I said. I only remember feeling like a fool for even entertaining such a silly idea. What woman would put herself into such an impossible position?

And then she said yes. She agreed to meet me in the lobby of my hotel, on the evening after my scheduled meetings.

I don't even remember the flight, or the business meetings that day. All I could think of was the anticipation of that evening. I made my excuses for not joining my coworkers for dinner that night, claiming fatigue from the long day of negotiations, and hurried back to my hotel to shower and change. As I closed the door of my hotel room behind me, I thought, "What an idiot you are! You won't be able to get even one intelligent word out of your mouth. Do you have any idea of how big a fool you are about to make of yourself?"

The elevator doors opened, and I had no choice but to step out into the lobby. I glanced around the room, trying to pick her out of the crowd, not sure whether she would even show up. And then I saw her.

She:

My friend Jo thought I was stupid. Really stupid. I had only one confidante who was up to speed on my internet erotica project, and the burgeoning email relationship to which it had led. She was incredulous that I should meet him. My boyfriend certainly didn't know how far it had gone, but not even I knew how far it had yet to go.

I had many 'positive' responses to the stories I had submitted to the Literotica website, not as many full-on perverts as you'd think. The first four stories were already typed up and ready to post with a few minor adjustments – I had put them in black-and-white many years before as part of a game to titillate my partner – and, right from the first one being approved, the response was immense. I could not believe how many men (and women) were reading about my sordid tales of sex with strangers.

It hadn't crossed my mind beforehand but being a woman and writing such uninhibited tales was giving me an invigorating power. Men wanted me, they wanted to do many, many things to me. They wanted to be acting in the role of the taxi driver or the meter man who got so very lucky in my memoirs. It felt so good. Not that I was lacking in attention at home you understand – I was very happy in all aspects of my life – but I'd always had a wicked side, a naughty, dark, sexual side. This was feeding my need to be naughty.

David emailed me shortly after I had submitted a tale of illicit hotel sex with a bell-boy. He was so polite compared with the others, polite but chatty, and I took an instant shine to him. We exchanged emails and, maybe because he was less forthcoming in telling me what he wanted to do with me, I began to get more involved. First, a photo, with my face blurred out. Then one night, after a few glasses of wine, I felt the urge to send him a one-minute clip of me having sex with my ex-husband. I was on top – David's favourite position for fantasizing, I had learnt – and the camera angle meant you couldn't see my face. So no harm there, I thought, just naughtiness. But over the next few weeks he saw quite a bit more of me on that squeaky single bed, and now here he was - standing in front of me, smiling nervously, in a hotel lobby.

I felt fairly confident in going there. He had emailed me his home and work addresses for me to check him out. He was on a business trip in London and suggested we could meet at his hotel, a busy up-market joint in the West End, maybe have a few drinks in the bar. I agreed, realizing I was perhaps playing with fire. But something had awoken in me. I felt the Trina of 10 years ago resurfacing, I felt powerful again, and it was quite possible David was going to get both barrels.

I traveled into town the week before our meet to check out the hotel – reassure myself that it was a suitably bustling environment in which to meet a stranger. All seemed well and there was one final email off David before he left for his trip just to check I hadn't changed my mind. I hadn't, he hadn't.

See you in three days.

I was thoroughly nervous all day before our 7pm meeting time. I suddenly realized that what I had long been planning to wear might be construed as a little too 'eager'. I spent all day thinking and re-thinking – this was a difficult one for a girl to call. I genuinely did not know how far the evening was going to go, but no matter how politely we spoke about the meeting there was always the underlying factor that had driven us together – sex. It was hanging gratuitously in the air above us, slithering below us, suffocating the air around us as we exchanged emails. There was an unwritten promise that something might happen.

That being the case, my best lingerie was a no-brainer. I started from scratch in planning my outfit and, for underwear, dug out a black lace ensemble that I was fond of, with tiny red roses embroidered along every edge of the panties and bra. I had been wearing hold-up stockings in the video clips David had seen and wondered whether he would like me to do the same tonight. They always seemed to make me feel extra sexy so I went for it, black with lace tops of course. A stylish knee-length charcoal grey skirt, my favourite black boots and a low-cut black shirt were each laid out on the bed. Perfect: sexy and stylish, slightly mysterious yet saying 'come and get me', not too obvious yet catching the eye of any heterosexual man. It was only 3pm...

After at least six changes of mind I was leaving my flat at about 6pm, perfect make-up, glossy hair bouncing as I walked to the station in just the outfit I had laid out on my bed a few hours earlier. The evening was fresh and still, full of people on their way home from work or on their way out to dinner ... or on their way out to meet a strange - married - man at a hotel after emailing him videos of you getting screwed.

I was sat on a leather chair in the lobby when he showed up. He smiled down at me, saying a rather hoarse "hi". I stood to shake his hand, not knowing what else to do, and we looked at each other for what seemed an age. I could tell he was trying hard to look only at my face, and not be a typical man, so I thought I'd rescue him. "Shall we go to the bar then?" I said with a smile, and walked on ahead.

We sat with our drinks in the corner. He was typically complimentary about me, I asked about his meeting, he asked about London, I asked if we could do another story together... A few hours, and drinks, later I suddenly realized we were still laughing and chatting and – more pertinently – there was touching of each other's arms, knees and hands as the flirting escalated. I decided to let a foot dangle by his shin under the table, let the hard toe of my knee-high black boots prod and eventually stroke his leg.

He smiled and looked at me as I grazed his trousers under the oak table. "You're much sexier in the flesh you know," he said.

"That's a lovely thing to say," I replied. "Flattery will get you everywhere." I let out a chuckle. "I'm off to powder my nose."

I rose from my chair, picking up my bag, and concentrated on leaving the table and walking over to the ladies' room with the maximum slinky sexiness. Despite three or four glasses of wine I thought I carried it off well – surely well enough for him to be staring at my ass as I walked away.

In the confines of my toilet cubicle I took a few deep breaths and tried to think clearly for a moment. He seemed a totally genuine guy – and I liked to think I was a good judge of character (though don't we all?) – and on top of that I was getting hot for it. I did some minor adjustments to my lingerie, checked my hold-ups were still clinging perfectly to my thighs and went out to touch up my make-up. I thought I looked good, and replacing the lipstick that had been deposited on the evening's wine glasses only served to boost my confidence further. Back out I went...

I approached the table and noticed he had finished his drink. He looked up: "I think it's my turn to buy, Trina."

"Or we could just take a bottle of champagne up to your room?"

He sat and stared. His mouth moved a little as if he was going to reply, but nothing came out. I began to wonder whether he wasn't too keen. "Shall I sit back down?" I laughed nervously.

"No no no no," he said, standing. "Sorry I was just shocked. I mean, I wasn't really expecting... um, I'd love to obviously." He took a deep breath. "Look, sorry. I've just been convincing myself you wouldn't want to 'see my room' so that there was no danger of me being disappointed tonight. I guess I wasn't expecting you to suggest it, either. Let's go get some bubbly."

With that we were on our way up in a lift to his room, a bottle of iced champagne and two glasses on order with room service. Thankfully the lift had a few other guests in, heading off any chance of an uncomfortable moment. We got to the fifth floor and I followed as he stepped out into the corridor. Just a short walk, through the fire doors, and then he pulled the card-key from his pocket. Room 512 opened with a click.

He:

She was what a hack writer would have described as "a vision of loveliness". No one feature stood out, but the whole was everything that a man could dream about. She was breathtaking – literally so. I found myself unable to speak an intelligible word.

She put me out of my misery by standing up to shake my hand, and then suggested that we move to the bar off the lobby, where we could talk. I gathered what few wits I still had about me – those that were still left after her touch on my hand drove most of the remaining intelligent thoughts that I still had right out of my head – and followed her into the bar.

Only two minutes into our first meeting, and this was not going at all as I had expected. I had underestimated the power of my fantasies, and the effect of confronting them head-on. I barely noticed the barmaid who took our drink orders.

The conversation started awkwardly. But within ten minutes, I was relaxed and enjoying myself. She had a way about her – simple, direct, and unaffected. We exchanged stories about the restaurant that she managed, and the projects that I'd been involved in, laughing together at people and things. We shared experiences about raising children, some hilarious and others not so at all.

I quite literally lost track of the time. And I felt completely at ease, just enjoying the opportunity to be with a warm, articulate, and appealing woman who seemed to be enjoying herself as well. Somehow, she was no longer the "object of my desire" who left me tongue-tied; she was a friend, sharing herself freely and expecting nothing more than that in return.

I realized with a start that over three hours had passed, almost unnoticed, and thought that, while I had no desire for this evening to end, she probably needed to be on her way. I was just about to say something that would give her an opportunity to make her excuses and go, when something happened to distract me entirely.

I felt the tip of a boot stroke my leg once slowly. And then again.

All at once, sex reared its ugly head once more. Except that it wasn't ugly at all – it was wonderful and overpoweringly seductive. The "object of my desire" had returned, with a vengeance. Except this time, it wasn't in the guise of some fantasy figure – it was a real live flesh and blood woman, who turned me on and made me laugh at the same time. The combination was irresistible.

I looked up at her, and her eyes were sparkling, with a wicked gleam. Without thinking, I said the first thing that came to my mind: "You're much sexier in the flesh, you know."

I regretted the words almost as soon as they left my mouth, fearing that they would put a damper on what had been such a lovely evening. But she just smiled and said "What a lovely thing to say! Flattery will get you everywhere, you know."

She got up and excused herself to go powder her nose. I found my eyes riveted to her bottom as she sashayed across the floor, hips swaying seductively under her skirt. The promise was unmistakable, but I was reluctant to break the spell of such a wonderful evening by suggesting that it might turn into something more. I gulped down my drink, and tried to come up with some clever way out of my dilemma.

I was still debating my next move when she returned. Not wanting to make a mistake, but not wanting the evening to be over yet either, I said the first thing that came to mind: "I think it's my turn to buy, Trina".

Fortunately, she was a woman who knew her mind, and wasn't afraid of speaking it. "Or we could just take a bottle of champagne up to your room?"

It was like looking my fantasy right in the eye. I was speechless. Trina must have thought she had said something wrong, and I saw she was about to get flustered. I liked her too much to let her feel uncomfortable about having made such a wonderfully bold suggestion.

"No no no no," I said, standing. "Sorry, I was just shocked. I mean, I wasn't really expecting... Oh, hell yes - I'd love to!" I took a deep breath. "Look, you turn me on more than any woman that I've ever known. I've just been convincing myself that you wouldn't want to 'see my room', so that there was no danger of me being disappointed tonight. I guess I wasn't expecting you to suggest it, either. Let's go get some champagne."

That wicked smile returned to her lips, and the sparkle to her eyes. I had to have her. I would return tomorrow to my family, and she to her boyfriend. But for just this moment in time, we only wanted each other.

I stopped off at the register to sign my bill and order a bottle of champagne to my room, and we moved off to the elevator, with her arm linked sexily in mine. As the doors opened, I leaned forward to enter the elevator and sweep her into my arms, until I suddenly realized that there were an elderly man and woman standing there. I stumbled into the elevator, pulling her behind me as I suddenly checked my "move".

"Pretty suave, sailor!" she laughed. The elderly couple raised their eyebrows, but didn't say a word. They didn't have to. I pressed "Five" and we rode the rest of the way up in smirking silence. As the elevator doors opened, I grabbed her hand and we ran down the corridor laughing. The key card worked the first try (thankfully), and I let her into my room.