A few days away. It was a gift for the wife, mostly so I wouldn't have to buy something that would take up yet more space in our cramped apartment. A nice boutique hotel, in a nice little gentrified town two hours north of the city. It was definitely overly boug-ie. People there were cloying in their entitlement. But, it was away and I loved staying in hotels. I had picked one with an over built shower, jets everywhere fancy. I fantasized about a few days of luxuriating and sex with my wife. Our sex life had been pretty stagnant, it was never amazing, at least compared to some partners I had had in the past. But I hoped it would inspire something more for us. The only caveat was I would have to stay in our bed at night, my wife's snoring was atrocious, and at home I could always relocate if it became too bad. I wanted to ride it out though, hopefully some excitement I the bed would make up for it. It would be fun anyhow, being away and eating out, spending too much money we didn't have. I thought we needed it.
After a drive north we arrived at the hotel. It was definitely nice, not cookie cutter at all and very nice people at the front desk, if you could call it that. The place was a row house, the lobby what would have probably been the parlor. Couches and chairs were set up, with end tables with a nautical themed wall paper. It was warm and inviting. They only manned the desk for seven or so hours a day, with the rest of the time it was empty of people working, so it was more like a living room. There was a couple behind us, younger, probably in their 30's. He looked the part of a finance bro and her, well, she looked a little off part. Page boy blonde haircut, more Brooklyn hipster-ish, with tattoos and Doc Martins. A little odd. She looked a bit excited to be there.
We went up to our room, settled in a bit, then out to explore and waste time until dinner. It was a calming late afternoon, pre-dinner drinks at the fancy hotel in town, dinner of burgers, grass fed and organic of course, at the diner. Then back to the room. I opened a bottle of wine, she went to take a bath and try out the shower, and I thought this was a good start. I thought about joining her, but she seemed to be enjoying luxuriating by herself, so I waited until she was done, then showered my a self. A phalanx of shower heads jetted water all over your body. This could be fun. It definitely had possibilities. I put on my thin gray pajama bottoms, with no underwear, to make things seem sexier. I was ready to try and fulfill the fantasy I had for our time away. She excitedly had MSNBC on the tv when I got out. We don't have cable at home, so the opportunity to watch was too enticing for her. Although we were lying in the bed together, both freshly showered, she ended up transfixed by the cable news shows she could usually only watch streaming on her phone. After an hour and a half, I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.
I woke up to the snoring. Trying to block it out, get back to sleep. And failing. With no place to go, I lay there. Maybe I could wait it out. I picked up my phone, tried to read. Wasn't happening. I remembered the living room set up downstairs in the lobby. Why not I thought. I grabbed my book, a glass and the 3/4 bottle of wine. I'd make the best if it. I quietly slipped out of the room, down the creaky stairs and set up on a couch placed in the corner. Poured some wine, and read at 2:00 AM.
I read for about a half hour, knocking back a glass of wine and heard footsteps on the stairs. I could just see them and caught a wisp of blonde hair before it disappeared.
"Oh, sorry, I assumed, I just thought no one would be...oh I'll leave you alone." She said sounding shocked.
It was the blonde from before.
"No, no, please. No need to leave on my account. I'm just reading a bit." It was a bit awkward, being just the two of us at 2-ish in the morning. "I, um, just couldn't sleep." I felt I needed to give her a reason for being here.
"Ugh, me either. Husband, snoring." She said glancing up the stairs. "I gave up...so, yeah, book too." She held up her novel.
I snickered a little bit and she looked at me quizzically. "Um, yeah, wife snores like a freight train. It's the reason I'm down here too."
"What are you reading?" She asked as she sat in the chair opposite me, wearing grey sweat pants, a tight white t-shirt, red straps showing underneath, barefoot. I tried not to stare at her tattooed arms, I was curious about the lace like design, but didn't want to be creepy.
We had a nice conversation about the books we were reading, and literature in general. She had been a lit major in college. We ended up having gone to the same place, her for undergrad, me for grad, although a more than a decade apart, which begat another conversation, comparing notes. We both relaxed, moving past the awkwardness. She folded her petite frame into the chair. She listened carefully to what I had to say, talked thoughtfully. It was pleasant really.
"So what brings you here? Do you live in the city? Oh, if you want some wine I can probably scare up a glass for you." I offered.
"Um, no thanks, I'm good. And yes, we live in Manhattan. Just a little bit of a getaway, to, um I, I don't know..." And she trailed off, seemingly not wanting to revel too much to a stranger. "...to perk things up?"
"Yeah same, Brooklyn, was hoping the same thing I guess." I said and she pulled her knees up to her chest. "It's worked a bit, had a nice enough evening."
"Yeah we had a nice dinner. I was just, um, do you mind if we change the subject?" She asked a bit wistfully.
"Yeah, of course. My mind racing trying to quickly think of something else to break the strange course the conversation had gone. "Um, do you mind, I mean if it's weird, just let me know, can I ask about the tattoos on your arms, if it's creep-ish just ignore me."
She giggled. "No, it's cool, really, but I get ya. Often times it feels like a pick up line. But I like talking about them actually, if someone is really interested." She seemed to relax a bit.
"They just seem really, um, delicate?"
"Yeah, I wanted, like this arm, and she pointed to her left arm. "Here.." And she rose from the chair to sit next to me on the couch. I could smell the body wash from the room's shower. "this one was inspired by a piece of lace I found. The tattoo artist did an amazing job, it took forever, but the details they got..." And she leaned in closer. She spent the next half hour excitedly explaining the art on both arms, answering the questions I had. At a point she stopped. "Oh my god, I'm sorry." She said starting to laugh. "I just went on forever, I'm just, I get excited talking about them. Not many people are really interested. Thanks, thanks for listening..."
"No, not at all, I loved your passion, the way you talked..."
She sat stone silent. Just looking at me straight in the eyes. She blushed a little, and looked down with a crooked smile.
"Huh, passion. Thank you. It's the type of thing I crave. I came up here with him...you know, maybe I'll have some of that wine."
"Sure, let me find you a glass then."
"Nah, we'll jut share this one, it's fine." She poured more of the red wine in the glass and took a sip. "What I really needed was to find, have, was some of that passion, up here, these couple of days." Her voice was resigned. "But..."
"Yeah," my voice matching her's. "I, I mean, that shower right, I mean, all those jets, like six of them. The first thing I thought, was like Christ, she's going to love this, I mean, how many times will she, um, get off in here. I mentioned it to her when I finished and she's like " what are you talking about." It never entered her mind."
"Oh my god right," She looked at me excitedly. "I mean I had like two orgasms in there." And she realized what she said. "Oh man, TMI right." She buried her face in her hands.
I chuckled hoping to relive her embarrassment. "No how could you not? For me it was the first thing I thought of..." we were both laughing now. "But I get it, she had already taken a bath, a shower, back in the bath, shower again. She was really excited about the whole thing. I thought this is great, fun times ahead." And I paused. "But apparently the fact that she could watch MSNBC on cable was more exciting."
"Right, football game. "She said pointing to herself. "I had put on this really hot red lingerie, was waiting in the bed." She trailed off with a look of exasperation.
"Yeah, a bit of the same. Pajama bottoms, um, no underwear. I was hoping we were both feeling it, but..."
"Exactly, I mean look at this!" And she stood up, pulled down her sweat pants and pulled her shirt up, revealing a red lace body suit hugging her body. "In bed, this on! What the hell?!" She was now waving her hands up and down her body like Vanna White. "Apparently football, I mean listen, I love a football game, I mean hell, keep it on if you want, happy to do it with the game on." She said incredulously.
"Yeah I had a scenario in my head. Maybe it wasn't fair to her, but. She's not overly demonstrative in bed, she's not really a fan of, um, foreplay, but, yeah I would have taken just having sex."
"Right!" She took one foot out of the sweat pants, sat back down on the couch leaning on the arm facing me and lifted the t-shirt off, one leg crooked on the couch, one on the floor. It was just her and the red lingerie. "So let's play a game. Tell me what your fantasy scenario would have been tonight. The baseline of what would have gotten you really excited, worked up."
I didn't know where to look. She was amazing sitting there, her pale skin, the tight red lace, her nipples poking at the material, the snaps of the bodysuit straining. And I wasn't sure where this was going...and I was trying to hide the hard on that was forming. We both paused took a swig from the glass.
"How detailed do you want it?" I asked.
"Hmmm detailed, explicit..."
"Well, what I was hoping, and like I said, it probably wasn't fair to her..."
