Carly walked over to the window, and gazed out at the night and the glittering lights of the city, leading to the water. Far below her she could see traffic moving in the street in front of the hotel. She sipped her wine, watching and patiently waiting.
The music drifted through the room - she had been happy to find an adapter cable in the nightstand drawer so that she could connect her iPod to the clock radio, and listen to her own favorites.
She glanced at the clock, wondering when he would return. James had gone out to a strip bar with his friends; she had agreed to his adventure for two reasons. One, the groom to be was his oldest friend, and had invited them to this city for the wedding, and two, James had promised to slip away from the group of raucous men once he'd had his fill of strippers who wouldn't actually suck, fuck, or satisfy him.
He knew, of course, that she would be here in the hotel room waiting for him. Her simple promises of "I'll make sure you won't regret it" had been enough to convince him to make his own promise.
She checked her arrangements, surveying the treats that she had received from room service, then repositioning the wine in the ice bucket, adjusting a tealight candle here and there. She made sure that one of the chairs from the dining table in their suite was angled correctly, checking the wall mirror several times.
She touched up her lipstick, and admired the emerald green satin camisole and thong she was wearing. She knew that he would love the silky feel, the tiny straps on top... and especially the color.
It wasn't long before she heard his key in the door.
She set her glass down on a side table and moved quickly over to the door.
He smelled of colonge, a faint trace of cigars, and beer. She smiled, knowing that she had the power to draw him back to the room despite the remarks he'd certainly got from his friends.
She kissed him, without saying a word, simply flickering her tongue between his lips... and then she tugged him over to the chair she'd arranged.
"Sit. Now." she ordered, pushing him down abruptly into the chair. The ipod, as if on cue, shifted to a song that was suddenly very appropriate for the mood - and a perfect tempo to dance to.
He tried to stroke her breast, and she slapped his face, just hard enough to let him know that SHE would be dominant for a while, and he was to do as he was told. She quickly tied his wrists together behind the chair, with the sash from her robe.
And then she danced, straddling him, kissing him but pulling away when he tried to deepen the kiss, running her hands over his chest and down toward his groin.
