Melody Dean

The only writing on the envelope was a three digit number. Inside was a hotel room key. I knew that’s the only information he needed, and I knew what he would assume.

I waited patiently, sitting in the plush chair in the corner of the room. A chilled bottle of wine and a single glass sat on the table next to me. The outfit I wore picked itself: his favorite tiny black dress that barely covered a lacy black bra that barely held me in, thigh high black stockings, and black high heels. The way I sat with one leg crossed over the other revealed the lace top of one of the stockings. As soon as he entered the room, my outfit would confirm his assumptions. He would be wrong.

As I expected, he entered the room with a sly knowing smile on his face. I love that smile. The beauty of his smile lay not in his lips, but in his eyes, which narrowed and sparkled when he had something devious in mind. Could he see the scheming behind my eyes?

When I stood up, I spread my legs slightly first, so he could see that I wasn’t wearing any panties. He stood in place, and I walked over to him slowly, giving him time to appreciate the view. His hands were on me as soon as I was within reach, and he pulled me into a long deep kiss.

Oh, his kisses! If he never did anything else, I would be happy if he just kissed me forever. My hands found their way into his hair, he gently bit my bottom lip, and his hands slid their way down my back. I reconsidered my idea, preferring to just get lost in his arms. Instead, as his hands slid down to the hem of my skirt, I reluctantly pulled away.

I caught a glimpse of his expression, his eyes now a mixture of confusion and rejection, before I turned around and walked back to the chair. I picked up a corkscrew and started to open the wine. He said, “You agreed not to drink today.” I merely smiled, poured myself a glass, and sat back in the chair.

“I have a surprise for you,” I said and crossed one leg over the other again. He stood in the middle of the room, lost and perplexed. My head turned towards the bathroom, and I called out, “Mr. Calloway?”

The bathroom door opened, revealing a tall, muscular man. He was shirtless so as to show off his physique. His erection was obvious through his tight blue jeans.

I smiled at my lover and took a sip of my wine.