Their meetings were few and far between, but charged with the power of time, distance and unspent passion. Both were too busy and engrossed in their careers to settle down, with each other or anyone else for very long. She was a high-powered publicist in the fashion industry; he, a dealmaker and international finance consultant. They managed to cross paths again, this time in New York City, for a few days of stolen time together.
Tony arrived at the luxury hotel first; slipping into a silk robe she'd bought him in Paris last year. His tall, athletic frame was barely contained in the burgundy folds of silk, flattering against his tanned skin darkened by a week in the Caymans. Just as he was carefully hanging his suit, he heard the click of a cardkey in the door.
Marisa swept into the room, her carryon and garment bag her only encumbrances. Expensive, sleek and efficient, her bags were designed to take her from a grubby sewing room to the runways of Milan. She was nearly as tall as him, with a curved figure that fit smoothly into her red silk dress, her dark eyes peering approvingly over Chanel sunglasses as she gazed at Tony appreciatively.
"You look fantastic in that...I knew you would." She leaned up only slightly to kiss him as he slipped his strong hands around her hourglass waist. As they kissed, his hands slid over her gently rounded hips and ass, she could feel his substantial cock stirring underneath the smooth silk robe.
"You look fantastic in anything, or better still, nothing," Tony teased her as his hands tugged the sash of her wrap dress free.
"Go ahead, love, I could use a hand," Marisa shrugged her shoulders, spilling the dress from her shoulders and revealing her soft yet fit curves. Her full breasts were barely held by a delicate lace bra; her round ass and hips swathed in a tiny bit of matching lace.
"I've missed you," Tony whispered in her ear, stroking her lush brown hair gently. His voice bore a faint trace of his English roots, smoothed out by an American education. "It's been far too long," removing her bra, freeing her breasts from their lacy confines.
She laughed, a low warm purr emanating from deep inside her. "Darling, check my carryon bag. There's a little present in there from the Duty Free shop." She slid the silk robe off his broad, athletic shoulders, reveling his strong chest. He shuddered, slightly, as she traced her beautifully manicured nails over his bare chest, toying with his chest hair, barely grazing his smooth tanned skin. "Go," she whispered, giving him a light tap. He hated to walk away, especially with his lover stretched teasingly and bare out on the king-sized bed.
Wearing only his boxer briefs, Tony strode purposefully across the room and reached into her red leather Vuitton tote. He pulled out a crumpled paper bag, peered inside, and smiled.
"My favorite," pulling a bottle of twelve-year old Glenlivet from the bag. "And yours, I see," shaking the empty bag onto the floor and holding a dark-brown bottle of creamy Bailey's liqueur.
"You don't need shot glasses here, honey," a wicked grin crossing her face. "Hand me my Baileys...you look thirsty."
