Exiting the elevator on the twelfth floor, Savannah made her way to her room in the downtown Chicago hotel. Insert the card, punch in the code, and a luxurious suite greeted her after her long day. Her latest client was a bitch but she paid well. She'd begun her own interior design firm, Design by duBois only one year ago and already business was booming. Business was so good in fact she'd opened an office in Chicago in recent weeks. If things continued at their current rate she'd be able to expand further into other main cities.
Shrugging off the tensions of the day she slipped off her high heels and shed her jacket, letting them fall carelessly to the carpet. With a contented smile she wiggled her toes into the plush floor covering. She made her way over to the bar and poured herself a glass of wine. Taking a fortifying gulp she walked over to the huge bank of windows that offered a spectacular view of the Chicago cityscape. She rested her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes. After a few minutes, she raised her head and drained her glass. As she was putting it on a nearby shelf, she had the oddest sensation that she was being watched. Peering through the window she could not see anyone in the nearby building looking at her, but that didn't reassure her.
She decided she was imagining things and unbuttoned her blouse, pulling it from the waistband of her skirt. She allowed the blouse to fall to the floor, and then unhooked her skirt. It joined the blouse. Kicking the garments aside, she stood there in her stockings, panties and demi-bra. Feeling restless, her silken thighs shifted against each other, and she could feel the first stirrings of a sexual ache. She drew the straps of her bra off her shoulders and peeled the cups downward until her heavy breasts were freed. Slowly, she rubbed her fingertips against each hard peak, making lazy circles and patterns on and around them. Letting her head fall back, she squeezed her breasts together, pumping them gently in her palms. A soft sigh escaped her, and she allowed herself the freedom of slowly letting one hand trail down over her belly, and then into her panties.
Her fingers were slick with her juices already, and she moaned as she thrust three fingers just inside her pussy. She teased herself, alternately rubbing and pinching her clit with her wet fingers, while her other hand played on her swollen breasts. It was the heat behind her that alerted her to the fact that she was not alone. And then, just when she would have cried out in alarm, an exciting familiar voice whispered to her.
"Hello, again, Savannah" he said.
She'd know that voice anywhere. It had haunted her dreams, disturbed her concentration during meetings. When she was supposed to be discussing profit margins or the booming antique market, she would daydream of hot breath across her neck, and her body being invaded by a nameless entity. It was the man from the club. It had been almost two months but she still recognized that voice, and when his body pressed against her from behind, she knew she had never forgotten that body either. It was animalistic, this recognition. He was her sensual opposite. Her blood heated in anticipation at what was to come.