Desire makes a woman do things she never imagined she could β or would.
For me, that desire-driven act was to agree to meet a man I'd spoken with online, and then actually follow through with the agreement.
I didn't think I had something like that in me. Sure, I had a one-night stand in college with a guy who had a girlfriend, and I had fucked my current boyfriend on our first date β stoned and drunk, and on the floor in my ex-fiancΓ©'s bedroom. None of that, however, was planned. This was.
When Sam first suggested we get together, I thought it was all talk. He was married, and though I was disappointed with my sex life with my boyfriend, I loved him enough to never want to hurt him. Even when I discovered he was banging one of his clients while he was out of town at a convention, I assumed it was something I did, that I wasn't desirable enough. But after weeks of talking, I realized Sam was serious. Even more shocking, so was I.
Still, I couldn't believe that I slipped into my leopard thong and matching bra, black skirt and red blouse the minute my boyfriend left that afternoon on another trip. I carefully applied make-up, spiked my short red hair in the appropriate places. I couldn't believe that I dialed up Sam and told him to meet me at the Hyatt in Indy. I couldn't believe it, but I did it just the same.
Driving was interesting. My pussy dripped and ached just thinking of all the plans we had discussed. By the time I made it to downtown Indy, I thought I'd come the minute I laid eyes on him. I entered the hotel lobby, but didn't see him.
Maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe I got the location mixed up. Maybeβ¦
A gentle kiss on the nape of my neck. A rose being handed to me. I stood there for a moment, eyes closed. My heart slammed against my chest and a thousand butterflies hatched in my stomach.
"Boo," he whispered, and I could almost feel him smile.
I whirled around and kissed him full on the lips.
"Hiya," I said back after breaking the kiss.
"You look stunning," he said, holding my hand as I twirled around for him. "Too bad you're going to be losing that outfit in about five minutes."
"Indeed," I replied. "But, I think I can accept that."
We must have checked in. And, at some point, we must have walked to the elevator, depressed the button, and stepped in. But what happened before that moment slips my mind. It's the after that I remember.
A nice, well-bred young couple stood silent as he and I kissed and groped in the elevator. They politely turned their heads as he fumbled for the button that would take us to our floor as our lips remained in contact. They even managed to make small talk as his hand slipped up my creamy thigh and under my black skirt, his fingers exploring the velvet panel of my underwear. And who knows what they did after he and I stumbled through the doors and onto our floor. Who cares?
I wrapped my arms around his waist as slipped the hotel pass key into the slot, and as soon as we entered the room, I started to dispense with my clothing. He shot me a disapproving look.
"What?" I asked, my hands still poised to unbutton my skirt.
"Having a woman undress herself is like having someone else remove the wrapping from your Christmas present," he said as he approached me. "It's rude."