It had been a long day. For the both of them. While she had been busy meeting with and keeping happy some high profile guests at her hotel, he had been slogging at work before he decided that it was enough. He had quit on the spot, left work and come straight to this hotel to drink himself away. And she had just walked in, having just seen her guests off.
That was an odd sight to her. A man, about 5'10'', sitting at the bar alone, drinking. He seemed averagely built, but on the leaner side. He was not a hotel guest, she knew. Nor was he waiting for someone. He looked like a man broken. By love, or by life, she couldn't tell. Feeling a nudge inside her, she walked over to him and occupied the adjacent stool.
He felt her presence and glanced over at her. For a second, he wasn't sure if the girl looked hot because he was drunk, or because it was true. She looked like a fine beauty, clad in a dark blue skirt and a sea blue blouse. Heels, that seemed high enough. She seemed almost as tall as him, but she'd probably be a few inches taller in heels. She looked corporate. He almost turned back to his drink before he realised that she was looking at him. He turned his head again to look at her, and their eyes locked. She smiled.
"Hard day?"
"Yeah." He smiled a resignation-like smile.
She looked at him. Almost as if into him.
"And drinking yourself until you pass out and have to be dragged into a room here sounds appealing to you?"
He sat up a little. She was inquisitive. But she was also almost telling him to not do something so stupid. It was in her tone. On her face.
"I wasn't exactly planning on partying THAT hard." He smiled.
And so did she. He was smart. Not like other guys - who were all either butch, wannabe butch, or plain stupid. He seemed like neither.
"Would you want to do a different kind of party?"
"What kind of party?"
"Don't worry. Nothing too bad. Just say.. yes, or no?"
He looked back at her, trying to figure her out. But maybe it was the alcohol, maybe his brains left him because guys' brains always do when they see a beautiful woman. But he couldn't. Her question seemed almost like a nudge, as if she had already known what he was going to say.
"Sure! I don't mind.. What is this party?"
"Come with me!" She extended a hand to him.
He paused for a second and told her he needed to pay the bill. But her hand glided forward and held his forearm lightly.
"It won't be necessary. I'll bill it to the tab."
"You'll bill it?"
"Yeah. I didn't get a chance to mention it yet, but this place is mine. And it will all be taken care of. Now shall we?"
There was a hint of impatience in her tone, but he couldn't be sure. She was pleasant enough. And polite enough. He could not complain.
"Alright." He got up from his seat and she walked a step ahead of him. Her hand was no longer available to him, he noticed. But that was okay. They were still both going toward the elevator.
"Quick question. Why are you so keen to "party" with a lone drunk at the bar? Am I one of your regular hook ups?"
She looked back at him, a little surprised, a little taken aback. She didn't expect him to say anything such. But it was probably the alcohol that was making him talk. She took a deep breath, stepped into the elevator as it opened, and pressed 30. The doors slowly shut.
"I don't usually do this. Let's just say that I have had a long yet a successful day and I want to let it all out."
No sooner had she finished her sentence than she turned to him and pressed him into the back wall. One of her hands was on his chest, and the other on his waist. The sudden rush she felt while describing her day to him sent her over the edge. It had to be now. And she had him right where she wanted him.
Her hand slid up his chest, up his cheek, and into his hair. Her fingers found their way to the back of his head and grabbed a bunch of his hair. She pulled down on them, and his face tilted upward as if automatically. She looked down at his cute face, caught by surprise. He was almost stunned. Her other hand played around his waist and abs and she pressed herself into him. Her firm but soft C cups pressed into his chest and her lips caught his open mouth in a sultry kiss. She kissed him hard and deep for a few seconds before pulling back away. Her hand let go of his hair and she turned to stand beside him again, as if they were just two people in an elevator. He hadn't said a word, nor had he tried to take control. She knew this was going to be fun.
Within the next ten seconds, the elevator rang and opened its doors on the 30th floor. But there was no corridor. They seemed to enter straight into an apartment.
She walked straight in, and he took a moment to accustom himself to what was going on around him. He walked out of the elevator, looking around, half in awe, half in admiration. And then he turned to look at her.
She was already looking at him, smiling as she did. She walked over to a sofa in the living and patted on the seat beside herself.
"Come, sit."
He saw no better option. He walked over to her and sat down beside her, almost expecting her to begin kissing him again. But she didn't.
"We need to talk first." She began, as if she had read his mind about the kissing. She looked back up into his eyes, and began.
"I don't need to tell you that everything that happens within this house, stays within this house. I have a name I need to keep away from controversies. Controversies not only hurt me, they hurt the hotel too." She was watching him all the time she was speaking. She needed to make sure that he was paying attention. And oh he was.
"Second thing. Whatever that happens in this house, happens because I want it to happen. If that is not clear, I could put it another way.?"
"Can you?" He replied, to make sure he understood her correctly.
She leaned in closer to him, her hands moving toward him. She rested a palm on his thigh and spoke again.
"It means that if you agree to be here with me..." her hand slid up and she leaned closer, gradually making him lean back against the sofa while she put a leg over him. She pulled her hand away behind her and grabbed his balls from between her legs as she straddled him.
"... your balls are mine. It means that as long as you are in this house, *you*, are mine."
She squeezed his balls a little and let them go. The flinch on his face was adorable. But she didn't want to pressure him. So she got off him and stood up. She walked over to the open kitchen and began to prepare herself a glass of wine.
"No need to worry. I won't do anything to you if you don't want. You are free to take that elevator back down to the bar. Your drinks will be paid for. Your car will be polished clean. And you can keep coming back here as many times as you want. You will always be treated as a special customer. But this offer will probably not be available again. So think carefully."
She had had a roller coaster of a day. But she had managed to tackle all her problems, and that made her feel almost invincible. That's when she realised that she needed someone, someone to spoil and ruin. And wreck. She felt powerful in a different way and she was not going to not use this mood. She knew her answer before he even gave it to her. She was an artist. Instead of being a savage who would banish him for rejecting her, she had given him everything she could. And yet, he would choose to stay... for her.
"Sure! I think I can do that.." He replied.
She smiled, having already seen it from a mile away. The confirmation only seemed to boost her mood. She gulped her glass of wine down, her head tilted back as she let the last drop fall from the glass into her mouth. When she brought her head back down, her eyes found him immediately. She set the glass down and walked over to him, her heels clicking on the floor with each step.
"Stand up." She said, as she walked.
He stood up. She grabbed his face by the chin and gave him another sloppy kiss. Her lips slid all over his while her other hand toyed with his package. She could feel her influence on it. But no. Not yet. She pulled away and just looked at him. She watched his face look back up at her, like a smitten puppy, almost.
"Go over to the table. There is a pen and a pad there. Write down things you absolutely do *not* want to be done to you. It's okay if you forget something. You can always use a safe word to let me know how you feel. Yellow means slow down. Red means stop. Got it?"
He nodded.
"Good. Now write down your limits.."
He looked at her and then began to walk to the table. She gladly planted a nice smack onto his butt, making him jump and scurry a little. She couldn't hold back her grin at that.
"Once you're done, bring the paper back here to me, and then go into that room." She told him, gently placing herself gently down onto the sofa, crossing her legs, and shaking her foot.
He knew she wanted the list fast. So he began writing. About a minute later, he looked over at the slip, and walked back over to her. He held the slip out to her. She was watching him with a curious smile. But then her eyes her eyes lowered to the paper in her hand, and she nodded to him to leave for the bedroom. Once she was done looking everything over, she smiled. Folding the paper in half, she carried it to the room, and left it on the table by the door. He was standing in the middle of the room, looking around. He was nervous, she could tell. And it was about to get a little worse.
