It's a quiet evening and the barman is idly polishing glasses in the lull. He casually glances at the woman sat alone as he moves up and down behind the polished wood bar. She appears to be waiting for someone, probably a man, he thinks. She had asked for a vodka tonic when she first arrived and because he was bored, he had tried to initiate a conversation. He had been politely rebuffed but as she was so damn gorgeous, he wasn't offended; he knew when he was out of his league.
The woman sips her drink and patiently waits. It is fifteen minutes past eight and already he is late. The thought that he won't turn up is a tempting one. She has a presentation to finish before tomorrow and the only reason she accepted this date was to keep Molly sweet. The barman keeps flicking hot glances her way but she ignores him. It would be rude to be seen talking to another man when the date arrives and she has no intention of sabotaging the evening before it has even begun.
The man steps out of the lift feeling harassed and tired. He is thinking that maybe he has made a mistake with this date; he is desperately in need of female company after several weeks in Singapore finalising the merger but maybe he should have called Sara instead. He knew damn well she would have been there like a shot but somehow the thought of her plump curves did nothing to excite him anymore. It wouldn't be fair to use her just for sex and that's all he could offer her. The woman he was meeting tonight would be uncomplicated and hopefully attractive. He had been quite specific when he arranged this date and hopefully the lady he had spoken to this morning had taken on board his tastes. The bar is virtually empty and for a moment he can't see her but something makes him look over into the corner and he locks eyes with her immediately. She is indeed as stunning as he had hoped for; classy red dress and heels, long blonde hair. She smiles at him and he walks over, all vestiges of tiredness evaporated.
He kisses her on her cheek politely and asks her if she needs another drink. She declines; too much alcohol is never a good idea on a date; she has made that mistake before.
He buys himself a drink and pretends not to notice the Barman ogling the woman. If he was a jealous man he would be annoyed by now but he only feels smug that this woman is with him and no one else for the evening.
She watches him as he waits for the drink. He is tallish, attractive in a rugged sort of way with dark hair curling over his shirt collar. There is an air of intelligence about him and he is definitely her sort of bloke. It appears that the evening may be more pleasurable than she had anticipated.
He sits back down at their table and they engage in polite conversation. She is well educated in many subjects and they find several things in common which dispels any tension there may have been. Before long the clock in the corner has crept round to ten o'clock. The woman is beginning to wonder if he is only interested in conversation and finds herself inexplicably disappointed at the prospect. So far he has been the perfect gentleman and made no attempt to touch her in any way.
The man finishes his drink and glances at the clock; it is getting late and he knows that tomorrow is going to be a difficult one. As much as he is enjoying this woman's company and intelligent conversation, he wants more than that.
How about a nightcap in my room? He asks.
She smiles at him and nods. That would be lovely she says, playing the game.
They stand up and he waits for her to collect her bag and jacket before following her out of the bar and into the foyer. The receptionist casts them a knowing look; she has seen it all before. She grins to herself and idly wishes she was going upstairs with such a sexy man. The phone beside her begins to ring insistently and she sighs heavily; the night shift is always the worst...
The carpet is plush and the lift is empty, mirrored on three sides. The doors silently slide shut and for a moment they look at each other, the tension palpable. The man moves towards her and looks at her with a question in his eyes. The woman decides to take the initiative as it appears to be what he wants. In this case it will be a pleasure, she thinks to herself.
They step into each others space and kiss softly, each tasting the others subtle flavours. Their bodies press together, a perfect fit in all the right places. The man pushes her back gently against the firm wall of the elevator. He presses his hard body into her soft curves and they both find themselves breathing heavily after a few moments. The woman is surprised; she is used to distancing herself from the act and to find herself actually aroused is a welcome novelty. Her sex is throbbing and swollen, her nipples hard; the sensation of a hard cock pressing into her belly is a turn on instead of a reminder that she has work to do.
Abruptly the lift shudders to a halt at the 14th floor. The doors slide open smoothly and an elderly couple stand in silence, staring into the enclosed space and taking note of the dishevelled clothing and flushed faces. The old man looks slightly envious but his wife merely looks disgusted.
They quickly exit the lift and she stifles a giggle as the doors close on the pinched expression of the old woman's face. The man unexpectedly takes her hand before leading her to room 1408. It is the last door on the left. Most likely a suite she thinks having been to this hotel before. Sure enough, the key card opens a door to reveal a large living area with a bedroom and bathroom off to the right. Soft lighting and pale colours are abundant. Clearly the designer was not wishing to offend anyone with a style too contemporary, unfortunately he ended up with a rather mediocre effect.
The man asks politely if she wants a drink whilst removing his jacket at the same time.
No thanks, she replies. Time is running away from her and now the fog of sexual arousal has lifted she remembers that this is a job and she needs to get on with it. Soon Molly will be ringing to check up on her and if she over runs over time he will be charged extra. For some reason she feels that this would be unfair and she wants to protect him.
Purposefully she walks over to him as he pours himself a drink from the mini bar. He is stood with his back to her and she slides her hands around his chest, caressing his body through the expensive shirt. His nipples are hard and she pinches them lightly. The glass chinks the bottle and betrays his loss of control. Abruptly he turns round, drink forgotten, pulls her close and with one hand on her backside, kisses her hard, sucking all the breath from her lungs and leaving her gasping for air. They stay locked together, hands exploring curves and tongues exploring mouths, for what seems like endless minutes.
Once again, control is slipping away from her and she struggles to regain the upper hand. Briefly, she pulls back and surveys him. His eyes glitter in the half light and he smiles slightly. He knows damn well that she is as turned on as he is and he's enjoying her unusual dilemma.
The lights from the city below are twinkling and the view from the huge picture window is beautiful, but he is oblivious to the visage. The only thing he is thinking of at this moment is this woman. This is the first time he has ever paid for sex and he kind of expected it to be a bloodless encounter that would leave him unsatisfied emotionally if not physically. The passionate heat of this woman has taken him by surprise. She is the most responsive woman he has encountered in a long time; her skin burns where he traces a line with his fingers and her mouth tastes like honey. All he wants to do right now is to bury himself deep within her and discover his own sweet nirvana.
He pauses a moment to look at her; her cheeks are flushed and her breasts are heaving as she breathes hard. Her body is ripe and he can almost smell her arousal coming off her in waves.
She looks almost surprised as if she can't quite believe that he would have this effect on her. He can't quite believe that she is as beautiful as she is; she should be on a cover of a magazine rather than stood here, ready for him to unwrap like a succulent fruit.
Slowly he pulls her back into the circle of his arms and slips the thin straps of her dress from her shoulders. She watches him, allowing him to take control and direct the scene. The dress slowly falls to the ground in a silky heap around her ankles and carefully she steps away from it, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Her bra is black with a small amount of pink detail; matching French knickers and stockings. She is stunning and he is impressed. Her skin is flawless and her body smoothly toned; any mans dream and he feels privileged to be here with her.
Suddenly the subtle balance of power has shifted and they both sense it. She lifts one hand up and runs a finger down her collar bone and caresses her own breast through the silky fabric. He watches mesmerised as she cups and squeezes her breasts, allowing him to imagine what it would feel like if it was his own hands. Her lips part and her tongue flicks out to moisten them. The tension is unbearable and he imagines that tongue caressing his hard cock.
Unwilling to watch any longer he reaches out and replaces her hands with his own; thumbs rubbing the taut nipples and extracting a groan from her. She reaches for him and unbuttons his shirt swiftly, wanting to feel his chest against her own. He is lightly muscled with a sprinkling of hair. The hair tickles her feverish skin as he deftly undoes her bra and tosses it across the carpet. Her nipples brush against him and they both enjoy this for a moment before he bends down to take one hard crest into his mouth and sucks gently, swirling the tongue around and squeezing the other nipple with his fingers.
