I looked at the message again. "I'm in the lobby. Blue pants, white shirt, blue sport coat."
I took a deep breath and headed for the stairs. I didn't know his name. I hadn't seen a face picture. I hadn't even asked for a dirty picture of him. I just knew that I was horny, he checked a lot of my boxes (older (58 to my 30), sexy hairy chest, total top, slightly dominant but not an asshole in our chats), and we had connected. I don't hook up a lot. Both because I'm married and don't have a lot of opportunities. And because, contrary to the sluttiness of my present actions, I really do insist on a connection when I chat. I had a hotel room to myself on a business trip tonight, so that took care of opportunity. And I really liked him when we talked. We were both married professionals, and had a nice talk about our jobs and the state of the world before I couldn't take it any longer and asked if he wanted to come over. He told me he was coming from a business dinner, and I was his pit stop on his way home to his wife. I made a bad joke about him making sure to have pineapple for dessert, and he told me he laughed.
As I got to the lobby, I scanned the room. I didn't break stride as I walked from the stairs on my way to the elevators. My eyes settled on him, and everything froze. He was bald, a little short, and completely relaxed in a chair with his legs crossed and his eyes on his phone. He looked up and I froze in my tracks as our eyes locked. He stood up and walked over to me with a smile. "Hi, Mike?"
I took his hand. "Yes, sir."
"Hi, I'm [I could make up a name, but if I'm honest my ears were ringing and I didn't hear it.]"
"Hi, sir."
He began walking. "Shall we head to the elevators?"
"Yes, sir."
As he walked in front of me, I followed, wondering who the fuck this submissive person was. We'd never talked about me "sir"ing him. That wasn't a particular fantasy of mine. It just suddenly slipped out.
"Did you say you were on the 4th floor?"
"Yes sir."
He hit the button, and we rode up in silence. Me standing behind him. I looked him over. He was about 4 inches shorter than me (I'm 6 foot even), bald, older, but clearly worked out. We had discussed me blowing him, no reciprocation. But I could already tell that all plans were out the window. My mind was on auto pilot, and I was clearly going to do whatever he wanted me to do.
As we got to my floor, he asked which way, and he then led the way to my room. I handed him my key, and he unlocked my door for me. I followed him in as he walked right around my bed. He paused to take off his sport coat, which he folded and hung over the desk chair. Then he sat on the little hotel couch with his legs spread wide. He leaned back, gestured between his legs, and said "shall we just get to it?"
I got on my knees. Hands on his thighs. I couldn't decide if I should make eye contact with him or with his bulge as I asked him how he wanted to get started. "It's your show," came the response.
"Yes, sir."