We walk up to the hotel room door and I scan the key, walking in while you follow behind. I point to the velvet armchair in the corner and say, "Feel free to sit there while I change."
I kick off my heels and put down my martini; you look around the room wearily before sitting down in the armchair and placing your whiskey on the small brass table next to you. As I turn on the lamps on the desk and in the seating area you can see it's a dark room, mostly decorated in autumnal colours -- browns, burnt oranges, burgundy. But the bed is made with crisp white sheets and the windows are floor to ceiling. You can see the city lights from here for miles. You weren't happy about being in the room, but you love seeing your city glow from on high. You love the darkness of feeling small amongst such magnitude -- especially because you so often feel outsized.
I grab my jeans and a jumper from the dresser, and say I'll just be a minute, while I go into the washroom to change. Closing the door and turning on the lights, I look at myself in the mirror. I've been out all day working and just finished attending a gala at the Royal Opera House. I have too much makeup on and my hair is pulled back away from my face. I know you are annoyed we've come up to the room. I'd asked to meet you at the hotel bar because the event had run late, and I thought it would be easier to meet there and then head to a pub. I hadn't counted on being THIS late, and still being in my full gala attire. I'm wearing a floor-length black satin gown. It sits off my shoulders, draped, as though it could fall off with just a whisper of wind. The satin runs low across my chest, showing off my cleavage, and tight on my ribs, slinky over my hips and ass then flows down to the floor where it pools. I begged for an evening with you, to catch up and talk, and this dress had to come off so we could head out.
I quickly wash my face to remove the makeup, and take my hair out so that it's now down around my shoulders. Feeling a bit more myself, I go to take off my dress.
"Shit," I say out loud. The zipper is stuck and low on my back -- too far away for me to reach. I try again without success, then finally attempt to pull the whole dress over my head. "Fuck." I know I have to ask you for help, which is the absolute last thing I want to do. You're going to think this whole thing was a ruse, that I'd lured you up here under false pretense and was now putting you in a compromised position.
I look at myself again in the mirror and say, "Fuck it."
Opening the door I walk back out into the room. You look at me with raised eyebrows, obviously not expecting me to emerge still in full black-tie attire.
"What's going on?" you ask.
"So a bit of a hiccup -- the zipper is snagged and I can't undo it. I swear I didn't plan this. Can you help?"
You look at me with scepticism and I know exactly what you're thinking. You want to remove yourself from this situation -- this was a mistake and you shouldn't have allowed yourself to be in this position.
"Please," I say. "Just unzip me, then I'll change and we'll be out of here."
You pause, then "Fine."
I walk over to the desk which has a large mirror mounted on the wall behind it. Placing my hands on the desk I give a little nod for you to come over. I look into the mirror as you walk up behind me. Now you're standing behind me at full height, towering a foot over me in the mirror. For the first time in years, you look me straight in the eyes. You've actively avoided eye contact the last few times we've met up, and it's shattering to openly stare back at you. We hold the gaze for a few seconds before you break contact. My heart's racing and a cold sweat has broken out my skin. Looking you in the eyes has always been overwhelmingly powerful and this connection was no different. I take in an audible breath, which I'm sure you don't miss.
You peer down at the back of my dress, taking your time running your eyes over my shoulders, down my back and over my ass. You readjust your stance, ever so slightly wider, as you take it in. I shiver under your gaze. Finally, you look back up at me in the mirror, before placing your hands at the top of my dress and unzipping me. You have unzipped it partway down when you take in a sharp breath and stop.
"What is that?" you say.
I blanch for a second, not sure what you're asking, before realizing what has revealed itself to you. As my dress has unzipped and opened you can see my back, which is covered with stripes of black satin ribbon, criss-crossing each other. You don't realize I'm wearing a bodysuit instead of a regular bra and pants. It probably appears to be a corset.
"It's just my underwear, it's a bodysuit."
"What's a bodysuit?"
"You know, lingerie..like a swim costume but as an undergarment?.. It's better for a dress like this."
You continue to unzip the dress, now sucking in an audible breath of your own. The lower the zipper goes the more you can see. Black mesh interspersed by satin that disappears between my ass cheeks so that no lines are visible through the dress. As soon as you've finished unzipping you quickly step away and sit back down in the armchair. I turn to look at you while you take a healthy swig of your whiskey. You run your hand through your hair then look down at your hands for a moment, silently contemplating, then look back up at me. I'm leaning against the desk ready to go back into the washroom to change.
"Take it off," you say.
"I'm sorry, what?"