I don't know why I agreed to meet him. I slammed the car door and hurried across the hotel car park. My stomach was churning, my legs were shaky on my highest heels and the new suspender belt I had just bought pinged as one of the buttons gave up under the strain.
"Shit!" My muttered swear word was carried away on the wind, as I plunged towards the hotel door.
This all seemed such a good idea sitting at my computer, typing horny little messages to an unknown man whose profile I had found on an adult dating website. Now, I was decidedly unsure. What if he was not the six foot man god he had made out? Worse what if he took one look at me and bailed out? I mean I am not Quasimodo in drag but I am not a penthouse babe either. Especially now I had reached the age of thirty-seven and gravity had stepped in.
I pushed the hotel door open, looking at my watch at the same time. I had twenty minutes to get the room key, get to the room and try to make myself look like the hot, sexy woman my MSN messages had made me out to be.
The receptionist perched in the Hotel Lobby looked just like the woman I had told him I was. All blonde hair, big breasts and legs; life was just getting better and better. I walked towards her, trying to keep my thighs together to stop my loose stocking from moving any further towards my knee.
"Can I have the room key for 701 please?" My voice sounded strange. I gave myself a mental shake, pull yourself together. "It's Mrs Jones, my husband made the booking." She knew; I just knew she knew and she knew I knew she knew. I do not believe I am having this conversation in my head.
"Certainly Mrs Jones, please sign in." She pushed the register towards me and smiled. It was definitely the smile of someone that knew I was not meeting my husband.
I pushed my lips into a semblance of a smile and signed Mrs Jones against room 701. He could have picked a better alias, Mrs Robinson maybe. He was only twenty six. If he was thirty six would I have felt better at displaying my body to him? I doubted it, even I tried to avoid seeing my body in the mirror when it was not pulled and pushed into clothes.
"Room 701 is just at the end of the corridor." The smiling receptionist said. She held out the room swipe card. Her name badge had Cindy printed on it. She looked like a Cindy. Cindy pointed to the long corridor to her left. "I hope you enjoy your stay with us. If you need anything Mrs Jones, please just dial 0."
"Thanks." I murmured as I took the little card and turned to the endless corridor. It did seem endless, I could turn back but then I would never know. My stomach churned again, I felt sick. I could feel the cold sweat beginning to form under my arms, my thighs felt sticky and my hands were clammy. I began the walk; I could not decide whether I was excited or just terrified.
Room 701 appeared far too quickly or perhaps just in time, before my legs gave way or I made a mad dash through the hotel lobby back to my safe little car. I swiped the card in the room door and it opened. Well here goes nothing, what could possibly go wrong. I shut off the thoughts in my head of being hurt, murdered or worse still laughed at and entered the room.
Business hotel rooms are always the same, it does not matter whether you are in the UK, USA or Outer Mongolia; they all have the same narrow corridor with the bathroom off to one side; the built in wardrobe; the small table that you catch your knee on when you wander back late after a few too many drinks in the bar and then there is the bed. I did not want to think about the bed.