Incognito
- August 27th, 2010
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There are around a dozen men sitting at or near the hotel bar when she enters. A few of them notice her arrival. She ignores their questing, appealing gazes. If he is here, he would not be so obvious.
She walks to the bar and orders herself a vodka Martini. She specifies Grey Goose vodka and Noilly Prat vermouth. She rejects the offer of a twist of lemon and asks for a single olive instead. The young barman nods appreciatively as he goes about preparing her drink, but she cannot make up her mind if he’s experienced enough to genuinely appreciate her knowledge of cocktails. In the end, she decides that he’s simply impressed by the confidence of her manner. She feels a shimmer of disappointment. The barman is cute. He might have made for an interesting conquest another time.
The barman places her drink in front of her. She lifts the wide glass to her mouth and sips. The drink is very cold and very strong. She sips some more with relish. The glass is half empty by the time she puts it down. She motions to the barman with her hand.
“Yes, madame?”
“I’d like another of these.” She opens her purse, takes out a twenty pound note and drops it onto the bar.
“Of course.”
“Have it sent up to my room, please.”
“And what’s your room number?”
She smiles at the semi-hopeful tone. She scribbles it on a piece of note paper and drops it on the bar next to the money. She scoops up her half-drained glass and carries it out of the bar. There are a few more eyes on her as she walks out, but again, she is confident that if he is drinking there, he is not one of them watching her buttocks as she sashays her way across the parquet floor.
She takes the lift up to the seventh floor and walks down the thickly carpeted hall to room 714. She slips the keycard that he sent her into the door and watches the small light change from red to green. The room is clean and unpretentious. Utilitarian. She doesn’t care. She closes the door behind herself and drops her handbag onto the sideboard. She is wearing a white blouse and charcoal grey pencil skirt, with black patent leather shoes with three-inch heels. Her legs are bare. She wears a modicum of make-up and hardly any jewellery; just her Cartier watch, a thin gold bangle on her right wrist and gold hooped earrings. Her engagement and wedding rings are back at home, in her jewellery box atop the tall boy in the main bedroom. She places her glass on the bedside cabinet and begins to undress.
Naked, except for her shoes which she keeps on, she opens her handbag and takes out a single roll of black bondage tape. The tape is two inches wide, and she carefully begins to wind it around her body, beginning beneath her arm pits and covering her breasts. She works her way down, until the tape runs out in the middle of her thighs. She inspects her homespun dress in the mirror. It looks raw, sluttish. She can feel herself getting wet.
She retrieves her mobile phone from her handbag and then climbs onto the centre of the king-sized bed. She sends a text message to his number:
I’M HERE.
Within a minute, she receives the first of his responses.
~ARE YOU DRESSED AS I ASKED?
YES.
~ARE YOU EXCITED?
YES. VERY.
~I CAN IMAGINE PEELING THE TAPE FROM YOUR BODY, SLOWLY REVEALING YOUR NAKEDNESS. I WANT TO TAKE MY TIME. I WANT YOU TO BECOME DESPERATE FOR ME TO RIP THAT TAPE FROM YOU, TO RAVISH YOU AND PLUNDER YOU, TO MAKE YOU COME AND THEN TO FUCK YOU.
OH GOD.
~BE READY FOR ME. CARESS YOURSELF UNTIL YOU’RE JUICY AND SWOLLEN, BUT DON’T COME. YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO MAKE YOURSELF COME. I WILL MAKE YOU COME, WHEN I THINK THAT IT’S TIME.
I WON’T COME, I PROMISE.
~GOOD. I’LL BE THERE SOON. THREE MINUTES.
With trembling hands, she puts the phone back in her handbag and takes out a black silk scarf. She carefully secures it about her eyes. In total darkness now, she rolls onto her back and slips her hands between her thighs. Her cunt is warm and slick, and her fingertips slide effortlessly over her, into her. Her excitement is marked. It would be so easy for her to come now, so easy just to let her fingers slip onto her clitoris and stroke herself to ecstasy. She doesn’t though. She made a promise him, and she won’t allow their physical relationship to begin with a lie.
There’s a noise outside the door, the click of a keycard being slid into the lock. Her hands freeze, and then she slowly eases them from between her thighs and allows them to fall to the bed on either side of her. She waits, shivering with the effort of controlling her breath. The beating of her heart sounds loud in her ears. There’s the faintest waft of air as the door swings open and then the door clicks shut and she hears the chain being slid into place. She listens to the sound of heavy feet crossing the room towards the foot of the bed. She waits, listening to the roar of her blood.
“Very nice,” a deep, masculine voice says. She shivers. It’s the first time she’s heard him speak. She likes how he sounds. She waits to hear him speak again, but there’s only silence now. She tries to picture his face, to imagine his expression. Does he look aroused? Rapacious? Bored?
She decides to provoke him.
Slowly, she bends her legs, bringing her knees up towards her chest with the soles of her shoes flat against the counterpane. Then, with great deliberation, she allows her thighs to splay, so that he can see her.
There’s a grunt; part masculine, part bestial. Suddenly, he is upon her, forcing her thighs apart with his shoulders so that his firm mouth can batten upon her sex. No preamble, no preparation. Normally, she desires softness and subtlety when she is pleasured orally, but the urgency of his desire, the rawness of his need is thrilling, intoxicating. His greedy tongue laps at her clitoris, sending sparks cascading through her, and then it is pressing its way inside her, actually fucking her as she cries out and reaches for his head.
He seizes hold of her wrists, the power in his hands obvious, and he restrains her arms at her sides, his grip just shy of being truly painful. She feels helpless, out of control, and the feeling is enough to tip her over the edge. Her climax makes her scream loudly enough to be heard out in the hall and in the rooms on either side.
Even as she still shuddering with the explosiveness of her orgasm, he is rearing over her, griping her shoulders. He flips her over onto her belly as if she were a toy. She is a tiny boat caught in the hurricane of his lust. She hears a belt being undone, hears zip and then trousers falling. There is none of the prissy ceremony that his text messages promised. She feels his legs between her splayed thighs, and then his glans is at her cunt, and before she can prepare herself properly, he is thrusting deep inside her, driving the air from her lungs in an exhalation of ecstasy. He begins to thrust hard and fast immediately. She can tell from the slickness of his shaft, the effortless way he slides in and out of her sodden flesh that he is not wearing a condom. She knows that it is insane, that she should tell him to stop, but the urgency of his lust is contagious, and it has silenced her tongue, silenced all but the cries of pleasure that she is helpless to prevent.
“Oh fuck,” she cries. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck!”
Her second orgasm rolls towards her uncontrollably, unstoppably, like a boulder. As she cries out in ecstasy once more, she feels his cock spasm and throb within its velvet sheath, feels the warm spurts of seed splashing against her flesh. She doesn’t care. She wants him to pour every drop of himself inside her. Their cries of completion merge.
Spent, he hovers over her motionless for a few seconds. Then he withdraws, his flesh parting from hers wetly. She listens to him pulling his trousers up, closing his zip, refastening his belt. The heavy feet recross the room, and then the door clicks open and closed.
Slowly, she undoes the blindfold and rolls over onto her side. Besides the keycard he has dropped on the edge of the bed and the semen oozing from between her puffy labia, there is nothing in the room to say that he was ever there, that he was ever more than just a figment of her fevered imagination.
Just as she wanted.
Just as she will want again the next time.
