We huddle against the back wall of the elevator, a conspiracy of whispers behind the unassuming and nondescript passengers.
I giggle mischievously. “I don’t know if we are allowed to take the glasses from the bar, but nobody stopped us, so…”
“Don’t you feel like a naughty girl now?”
“Yes, very naughty. Have you been thinking about what you are going to do to me?”
“I can’t stop thinking about it. I could hardly keep my eyes on the road, imagining what it’s going to be like.” His voice comes out like a low growl. I’ve never seen this particular gleam in his eyes before–and it makes my legs feel unsteady beneath me.
“I’ll be right out.”
I slip into the bathroom where I have laid out my little black see-through camisole and fishnet pantyhose. He’s never seen my backside through fishnets before. I imagine him hungrily ripping the crotch open at the seam with both hands to get at the warm sweetness beneath. The thought sends a rush of warmth between my thighs.
I hear the distant sound of children splashing in the swimming pool below and I am reminded that it’s not even dinner time yet. It’s still sunny outside our dimly lit room. I give a little shudder and the flesh rises on my arms. The mommies and daddies would be horrified to know what is going to take place just beyond the window above. I really do feel like a naughty girl.
I hear him flip open the latches on the old-fashioned briefcase he brought. Rustling about, setting up, preparing for the evening. One thing I’ve always loved about him. Almost perfectionistic about getting it “right”.
“You look like a secret agent,” I snickered earlier as we left the house.
I try on the pantyhose and check myself out in the mirror. They don’t look just right, so I decide to skip them and go with the stretchy metallic mini skirt with no panties. He loves when I don’t wear panties. He prefers it.
Stepping into the room I open my silky black kimono for him to see what I am wearing. I want to please him. Leaning back, still fully dressed, with his feet propped on the desk on the far side of the room, he exudes a masculine confidence, a certainty for the evening. Like someone who has done their homework. Ready for anything.
“Do I look okay?” I teeter a bit and give a little turn so he can see the way the skirt hugs my contours and how the higher than usual heels further define my shapely legs.
“You look so hot and sexy…I just want to eat you up! Now come over here.”
I tip across the room slowly, pausing at the bureau for another sip of my drink before we get started.
He meets me there, taking the glass from my hand and setting it back down. He kisses me, tongue firm and deliberate, while his hand moves smoothly to the hem of my short skirt, pushing it up past my hips.
The smack breaks the silence of the room.
To be continued…