**Authors note: This story contains rough non-consent, degradation, and mind break... if these things don't interest you, beware... if they do, enjoy...**
The lights were dim in the hotel bar, the mixed drinks weak, and the shots short poured; all pretty typical fare that she was used to after years of traveling from city to city. She used to travel almost every weekend but now that Diana had married and gotten a proper job, she only traveled on rare occasion and ended up in hotel bars even more rarely. They were good places to pick up a casual fling back in her younger days, but tonight, she'd just come for the drinks.
"Another" she beckoned, motioning to the bartender with her empty glass.
He nodded in her direction and she felt a heat behind her before she heard him speak.
"Can I get that for you?" a deep voice asked.
She struggled to place the accent but didn't turn around. She'd played this game many times and slipped into the role without really thinking. Coy worked really well in this moment.
She nodded her head slowly in agreement and bowed down to reach for her purse. That served two purposes, it exposed the back of her long neck to her admirer as her silky hair fell to the side and it allowed her to discreetly slip her wedding ring off and place it safely in her change purse.
When she straightened back up, she turned slightly toward him, just enough to catch a glimpse of his brown skin and strong shoulders but as of yet, denying him eye contact. She turned her attention back to the bartender as he approached with a freshly poured drink.
"Put it on my tab," he told him.
"No problem, Mr. Smith" the bartender responded and Diana smiled. She'd have to come up with an alternative fake last name for the evening as it appeared her usual one was taken.
She took a long slow sip of her drink as she slowly rotated the chair to face her newly made acquaintance. He was handsome, strong, with beautiful dark eyes and full sexy lips. She made a show out of swallowing the drink down and licked her lips, normally it would have been purely for effect but tonight it was just as much in appreciation for his smile.
"Mr. Smith," she said, allowing his name to roll off her tongue with a slight drawl that might have been enhanced by the drinks she'd had before his arrival.
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "And you are?" he asked.
"Diana, Diana Prince" she said, almost laughing aloud at her choice and cursing herself for watching the Wonder Woman marathon she stumbled on to the night before, alone in her hotel room.
"Pleasure to meet you," he said with a smile and she realized with relief that he was clearly too young to have gotten the reference.
"Please, sit down," she said, motioning to the empty chair beside her.
He sat and they chatted about mostly nothing for a while, his chair inching closer to hers with every new drink he ordered. Before long, Diana was feeling quite warm and Mr. Smith was feeling the silk of her stockings as he caressed her thighs. It had been a long time since she'd felt the hands of anyone other than her husbands' and his hands were strong and their dark tone contrasted beautifully with her creamy white skin. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away and she couldn't seem to find a voice to tell him no as his fingers traced higher and began to slip under the hemline of her skirt.
They were the last of the patrons in the bar, the responsible businessmen and women having retired to their rooms to get a good nights sleep without them even having noticed. She tried to recall what Mr. Smith was in town for or where he was in town from, quite certain she'd asked those questions but his answers were a blur. She'd been distracted by the accent that, even when she'd asked and been told where he was from,she still hadn't placed as being familiar. It sounded rhythmic, soothing, almost hypnotizing and the alcohol clearly wasn't helping.
A jingle sounded from her phone and she leaned down to retrieve it, effectively trapping Mr. Smith's hand between her thighs. He pushed two fingers against the gusset of her panties and a soft moan escaped her lips before she could suppress it. One glance at her phone drew her back to reality and seemingly sobered her in an instant.
"Just got home from work. Not sure if you're still awake so I just wanted to text and tell you that I love you and can't wait until you get home. Hopping in the shower. Call me in 15 if you're still up." her husband wrote.
Diana put both hands around Mr. Smith's wrist and guided his hand back to his own lap. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," he chuckled. "Are you alright?"
"I'm married. I don't know what I was thinking. You were so kind, very easy to talk to, and very, well, easy on the eyes... but I'm sorry. I love my husband and I can't do this. I can pay you for the drinks," she said, reaching for her purse.
She nearly fell forward as she leaned down and reached out to steady herself and found herself with a hand full of rock hard cock. She should have pulled away, made her actions match her words, but she couldn't. She stroked it gently through his slacks and felt it pulse in her hand.
"Payment won't be necessary," he said. "I thoroughly enjoyed your company, as you can certainly feel."
She jerked her hand away. "You must think I'm some sort of whore. I'm really not. I don't know what came over me. I'm really very sorry."
She reached in and retrieved the ring from her change purse and slipped it back on her finger, avoiding eye contact as he gathered the bartender and closed out his tab without uttering a word to her.
"I have to call my husband, I really am sorry," she muttered, embarrassed at the way she'd been carrying on.
"Stop. You don't owe me an apology," he assured her before he walked toward the elevator.
****************************
Mr. Smith stepped on to the elevator, his cock still hard as granite with no desire to take care of himself with lackluster hotel porn or some escort he could find in a magazine. He'd been looking forward to drilling Diana since she'd walked into the bar. There was something about her, the way she walked, how her heels sounded on the marble floor, how she seemed to command the room. There had been easier marks in the room, women with tighter shirts, shorter skirts, heavier makeup, begging for attention... and he could easily be on round 2 or 3 with any of them right now but no, Diana Prince had stolen his attention. She'd stolen his attention, wasted several hours of his time, ruined his night, and left him in a predicament he didn't enjoy dealing with alone.
"Bitch," he breathed as he sat on the edge of the bed closing his eyes and seeing the curve of her neck as she'd leaned forward to hide her ring in her purse, not knowing he'd seen it as soon as she walked in the room. He preferred married women for these dalliances, less likely to want refuse what he wanted or cause any drama in his life.
