Submission.
Being wanted.
She fucking craved these things - why couldn't she find it?
And suddenly, she had. Or, she thought she had - a chance meeting meant, all of a sudden, she had one shot to see if her cravings could be met. An offer was there on the table, literally a 'one time only' proposition. She hadn't been the one to make it - the random stranger she'd met earlier that day had eventually given her the choice. Afternoon drinks with her friends had by chance found her speaking to someone at the bar that she only just met, but she felt she'd known forever. They'd talked for hours - at times she detected flirting, but wasn't confident enough to tell herself that's what it was. As her girlfriends drunkenly shouted to her that they were heading to the next bar, that's when he'd made it 100% clear.
He was only there the night, he was leaving the next morning, and the adjoining hotel is where she'd be able to find him that night.
At first she was shocked. But instantly turned on. For the first time in ages it felt like someone was interested in her - nothing else, just her.
As the afternoon turned to evening, she followed her friends from bar to bar, until the evening got loud enough that she could steal away unnoticed. She headed back to the hotel she knew the man would be in.
How would she find him? They hadn't swapped numbers, she barely recounted his name. How on earth would she explain her predicament to reception given that the booze from the day, and the excitement at what she was about to let herself do, was making her extremely light headed, and her thoughts were going a million miles an hour?
She needn't have worried - in the restaurant's bar area, there he was, sat with a drink, chair angled at the door so he could watch her arrive. Her mind worked overtime... should she find the fact he'd waited for her as a sign of arrogance, or of confidence? Was this really happening? And how fucking good did he look in that suit..?
She walked over to him, but before she got halfway, he stood and walked away. Her confidence instantly took a hit - until she saw him get to the door of the lift. He walked in, and she saw his hand keeping the door open for her.
For her... nobody else - for her, she thought. Was this real?
She quickly followed. She stepped in, and went to speak. He interrupted her and said what would be his only words of the night.
"You don't need to talk. You don't need to say anything. I know this is something you desperately want, and I'm going to focus completely on you."
If she wasn't wet, she was now.
The lift reached its floor - the room was directly opposite. The next few moments were swift, and an absolute haze for her - the door was opened, she was in, the door was shut, he was already close behind her.
The next day she would barely remember this, nor the undressing that followed. He was so quick to remove the dress that had clung to her legs, so quick to push her back on the bed in just her underwear... she'd reached for his clothes but wasn't permitted. He was right - this was all for her.
Then the first kiss. He tasted and smelt amazing, she thought. His tongue left her mouth, and worked down her neck as he lifted her arms above her head. He held them together with one of his strong hands, and she melted as he upped the pace by pulling her bra downwards, exposing her breast. Her nipple was exposed only briefly - he sank his mouth onto it. If she didn't know already, she knew now how hungry he was.