The ticking of the clock was like the steady beat of a heart, threatening to lull me to sleep.
The numbers were starting to blur in my vision. "Only 4am?" I thought to myself with a groan, leaning back in the office chair. My eyes swept around the small office, wondering how to kill another three hours. Working night shift at a hotel was great, and the pay was decent, but sometimes staying awake was a pain.
The whirr of my laptop drew my eyes back to it and I slid my finger along the warm touch-pad, tapping once to bring up the browser. The internet would be my salvation -- surely there was something there I could waste a couple hours on.
I found myself navigating to my favorite adult site. I was all alone -- the only employee in the hotel, so why not? The minutes ticked by a little faster then, as I chatted idly with strangers and flipped through stories. Before long I felt a faint tingle between my legs as I got wet.
This was a mistake, I realized. Since I was at work, there was no way I could get relief -- unless someone took me to their room and had me there on the bed. I smiled -- it sounded like a plot to a bad porno. My hand drifted down unconsciously until I was running my fingers up and down the inside of my thigh, taken away by my fantasy.
I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn't even hear the sliding doors open. I didn't hear the code being punched into the office door, and I didn't hear the steps behind me until it was too late.
It was the woman who took care of the breakfast bar, but she was nearly an hour early!
"E-rot-ic chat?" she sounded out, confused. I snapped the laptop closed and spun around, brushing my short blonde hair out of my face. I crossed my legs, as if afraid she would be able to tell how wet I was.
Hazan was from Turkey, and was still struggling with the language here. I hoped I could get away with lying about it. "N-no," I stuttered, "It's -- uh," but she was smiling.
"Erotic, means sex -yes?"
I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck. I saw my job flashing before my eyes, but she was still smiling. She reached out and touched my hand.
"It's okay," she said, bringing a slender figure to her curved lips, "I wont tell."
Relief washed over me, but then she was grabbing my hand, pulling me to my feet.
"I wont tell," she repeated, "as long as you do something for me."
It occurred to me suddenly that she was beautiful. I had never noticed it before, always preoccupied with her stuttering, awkward words. She had beautiful auburn hair, perfect almond shaped eyes, a smattering of freckles and a petite form. She was graceful, and her eyes were gleaming.
The handle of the supply closet creaked as she pushed the door open, pulling me in behind her. My heart thundered in my chest, and I could feel myself getting wetter as it dawned on me what she wanted. I was about to be blackmailed into giving sex in order to keep my job. The idea was horrifying and exciting all in the same moment.
The door clicked shut behind us and she pushed me up against the wall. She was gentle, but her touch was firm.
"What do you want?" I asked into the darkness.
"No words," she admonished, "Only touch. You see." She bent forward and brushed her full lips against my neck. My breath caught in my throat, a wave of warmth washing between my legs and a tingle creeping over my breasts.
She trailed small kisses up my neck and along my jaw before planting one firmly on my lips. Her hands had moved to my hips and I found my own hands following suit, feeling the curve of her body beneath her clothes.
"Is good?" she whispered against my mouth, but I could only nod in reply, words failing me utterly.
Confident now that she had me convinced, Hazan slid her fingers under the hem of my shirt, placing her hands on my bare skin. Her touch was electrifying, and I couldn't stifle the gasp when she began to move upwards. In the next moment she was teasing the edge of my bra, pressing her hips to mine.
