[BGM](https://youtu.be/iklGTn4MMvw) for this one. Enjoy.
‐———————–
I lay my phone face-down after I sent the picture out – just as you requested – a picture of me relaxing on the couch in bikinis to make you think you’re on a tropical vacation as opposed to a last-minute business trip.
Your phone vibrates as you finish the last bite of that burger. You love burgers; the burger you just had was delicious, but not delicious enough to justify the misery from having to travel and eat at the same hotel bar several times in the past couple months. As you signal to the waiter for the check, you pick up your phone to check the new text your just got. You see the beautiful scene that I just sent. You let out an obscure light sigh and sink yourself into the tall booth back. I’m not sure if those requested pictures are serving their purposes – to boost your morale. I know you’re frustrated, one more day in this boring town before you can come back and fuck me.
See, yesterday when you stormed out to catch the Uber to the airport and irresponsibly tossed the Magic Wand at me, expecting it to finish your undone job, I got very frustrated, very very frustrated. What brings greater pleasure than knowing that you’re suffering as well? How do I achieve that? Hmm, when you request a morale booster, let me take a picture with barely anything covering me in an inviting pose with a lascivious wink, with a line “Feeling really comfortable on the couch, wish you were here.” You want me now? Sorry, you can’t. I know, I know, sometimes I get a little malicious.
The waiter brings your card back. You grab your phone and your wallet to get ready to go back up to your room. “No dessert for you, sir?” A voice comes from the booth behind, and you see a hand holding a bottle of whipped cream from the side of your booth. Your upper body jumped a little in shock and your head turned to the side in disbelief.
“You… wait… what?” Always a smooth-talker, you stuttered. “Don’t like whipped cream? I also have fudge.” I reach into the left pocket of my trench coat. Gratified from my successful mischief, a big smile blooms on my face.
You’re still shocked, “but you just sent me a picture…”
“Well, picture was taken from earlier. You can punish me for that. Although,” I bend towards you slightly and hook the edge of my trench coat’s lapel with my pinkie to loosen it, “the depiction of my attire is still very accurate. You can check for yourself.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/m9nuzx/a_booster_of_frustration_or_morale