A couple years ago my job title shifted ever so slightly, but enough that suddenly I was on the road constantly. In the last 18 months alone, I’d been to more new countries than I had in the last couple decades of my life combined. Early on in this whole process, a trip to London solidified it as my favorite city to end up in. I was scheduled to go back this week, but with everything going on in the world right now, I’m locked up in my apartment reminiscing on here instead.
It’s easy to feel like a ghost when you travel a lot for work, especially if you’re single. It’s hard to shake the feeling you could just fall off the face of the earth and no one would be any the wiser for a month or two. I’ll normally fish for company on social media when I’m in new cities. Cast a line via a simple post asking if anyone I’ve ever known settled down there. Maria bit.
I don’t really remember how I met Maria, but it had something to do with college. We weren’t friends in that I could count on my hand how many times we spoke outside of a group, but I remember seeing her at parties or saying “hey” as we crossed paths on campus. College becoming increasingly a distant memory in my life, I hadn’t thought of Maria until she responded to my post saying she was living in London.
Now I understand backstory and context isn’t everyone’s thing, so if you’d rather skip to the reason this post is even on here, I’ve bolded the start of it and even added some *****’s next to it.
I spent most of college in relationships and Maria was always cute in a way that felt dangerous. Fashionable, but never in a revealing way with short, effortless black hair and big, expressive eyes that made you feel all sorts of ways. The kind of girl that you knew if you spent too long in her orbit you’d lose yourself a bit. I kept my distance but remembered she had a genuine warm quality to her. I assumed her invitation was just an extension of that inherent hospitality.
I called her on it. Even an awkward catch-up over dinner would keep me from turning into a ghost. Surprisingly, she shot back a request to meet up the next night, the only curveball being that she kept weird hours due to her work. She was working at a nightclub, I believe as a hostess at the time, or maybe she was serving drinks.
I had been irresponsible with my jet lag and told her I’d be happy to make it work. She told me she knew the 24-hour restaurants in the area all too well and gave me a place to meet her.
I found the spot in the deep hours of the night and grabbed a table. She came through 10 minutes later, just as I was beginning to scan the room for people that might have been her. We locked eyes as she made her way over, a smile across her face that could warm up the entire room. I stood up and she pulled me into a tight hug, apologizing profusely for being late to what must have been a 3 or 4 AM “dinner.”
I assured her that her timing didn’t matter to me and that I was just happy to have the company. Internally, why didn’t I recognize her? She smelled strongly of expensive perfume. Her hair was now long, dark, and curly; likely done-up for the night. This theory was supported by some rather bold makeup that made it look like she had just stepped off a photoshoot: pretty damn sexy, but perhaps too loud for a late night meal with a foggy memory.
Maria made sense of it for me as she pulled off her black coat, noting that she normally changes when she gets off work and it kept her a bit longer than usual. She joked that she didn’t think a “skimpy club dress” was proper attire for meeting up with an old friend. Drunk on her presence after what must have been less than a minute, I tried to keep it light and fell flat on my face. I joked something to the tune of “Well that depends, how skimpy are we talking about?”
She giggled, breaking eye contact and smiling wide again, somewhere between embarrassed and amused. This segued naturally into less lusty conversation.
Maria was warmly magnetic. Innocently sweet. She could really tell a story too, make you laugh. I wondered why I hadn’t been closer with her back in the day.
I settled the bill for us and got her a cab as a thank you for the company. I gave her another hug and was met with “How long are you here for again?” as the cab pulled up. I told her until the end of the week (which was about three days) and she declared that we should do this again before I left. No objections from me.
I slogged through work the next couple days, texting Maria at some point to thank her again. She drowned me in smiling emojis replying that it was sweet of me to stay up late for her. I responded that it was my pleasure and that it was a great to hang out again (despite us never having hung out together all those years before).
Later, in between meetings, I checked my phone to see she had responded, asking if the other night was still a great time “Even if I didn’t wear a skimpy dress?” with a handful of emojis mocking my early fumble.
She was having a laugh at my expense so I tried to defend myself with another bad joke, telling her it’s bad etiquette not to wear such a dress to see an old friend.
Almost instantly she shot back: “I’ll be sure not to make that mistake again” a winking face appearing, a perversion of the sweet smiling ones I’d seen hours earlier.
Work pulled me back down to earth as I distractedly made my way through presentations and meetings, my mind focusing on the new side of sweet, friendly Maria that I had accidentally stumbled onto. Dinner and drinks with the London office was a good distraction until I checked my phone and to see a message from Maria from a couple hours previous. Two photos appeared in my notifications from Maria along with the text “Which one?” and another clarifying, “For work.”
Two pictures, two gratuitously tight club dresses. Like walking directly into the sunlight from a dark theater, it took my eyes a moment to adjust to what I was looking at.
A far cry from the baggy sweater and jeans I had seen her in the night before, very little of Maria’s body was left to the imagination. At least I assumed it was Maria’s, each picture staged in a full length mirror, her full face cropped just out of the image so all that could be seen was a pair of dark red lip curled up into a menacing smirk. Meanwhile slender fingers with immaculate, wine-painted nails cradled the phone taking the picture. I desperately hunted for a moment to excuse myself from the group to take a closer look.
*Preemptively, I’ll note that I won’t be sharing any of these pictures out of privacy concerns. To make up for it, I’ll do my best to describe them in extra detail.*
The first dress fused to her figure, wrapped from just below her lust-inspiring hips to around her neck where it clung tighter than a turtleneck. A dark shade of burgundy that looked black on first glance, the dress was sleeveless, revealing some highly unexpected tattoos drawn around her upper arm. What made the dress a masterpiece was a prominent cutout just below the neckline, altering the dress from “sexy with class” to “antagonistically sexy.” The cutout carved out a distracting view of cleavage, which Maria evidently had in no short supply.
The second dress, equally heart-stopping. Skintight, strapless. A little black dress with a shine to it and a hem that sat criminally high up her thighs. Its fabric bunched at the junction between her hips and abs, struggling to make sense of her curves. The sort of dress that would normally only come out at a college Halloween party or for a high-paying client, yet somehow gloriously deemed “in-fashion” this year.
I found myself questioning what I could have possibly been doing a few hours ago that could have been more important than responding to this message.
I remembered Maria dressing cute, if a bit conservative back in the day. Clearly I hadn’t been paying good enough attention as the curves she hid behind those loose sweaters and denim jackets were deadly. An hourglass figure laid bare in her “work uniform.”
Her legs and feet equally bare in each picture, delivering the ego-inflating clue that she was trying both of these on exclusively for me today. The framing, the lighting, the dresses: there was something so dirty about it, disguised as a simple fashion question to a friend.
I scrambled to respond, but in that moment Maria messaged back “Too slow!” my read receipts having clearly betrayed me.
A looping video came in with her response, a shot of Maria washed in the dark light of a nightclub, smiling and sticking her tongue out at me, dress #2 perfectly accentuating what curves were on display, artificial club lights bouncing off the front of it. The only other details of her outfit I could make out were some dangly gold earrings and an intricately-patterned, lacy, black choker clung tight to her neck.
She existed impossibly at the crossroads of cute and sexy. Her smile, personality, and my memory added up to this sweethearted ingenue, yet somehow that math was wrong. She was dead sexy: a secret monster literally hiding in her closet. To be blunt, it was a bit of a mindfuck.
I messaged her back, telling her I would’ve picked dress #1 to tease her.
Just as I rejoined my coworkers for another drink, Maria responded back, mock scolding my choice, telling me that the dress she had on was “really hard to take off” so she wouldn’t have taken my recommendation anyway. Buzzed and shooting from the cuff I couldn’t help but comment about the dress being “really hard to get off”:
“Good thing you have a friend in the city to help with that now.”
Suffering in the no man’s land between drunken satisfaction at having shot my shot and embarrassment of my drunk texting, Maria went radio silent. I retired to my hotel room hours later, taking the opportunity to examine the pictures in greater detail. As though she could sense my eyes on her incendiary figure, a message:
“Want to meet up again tonight?”
Before I could even start thinking straight, I heard my phone chime off again.
Again from Maria, “I could certainly use the help ;)”
I messaged her back with the subtlety of a wrecking ball that my hotel bar was open late “if there’s nowhere else open.”
“I like that plan :) ” she sent back with a simple smiley face, trying to leave some mystery to her dealings.
I made the foolish move staying up rather than get a little sleep. Somewhat awake I make my way down to the ground floor bar, its inhabitants fading memories of a night-out desperately trying to stumble into a logical ending. Myself made up as well as I could: clean-shaven, nicely-cut shirt, hair mostly tidy.
Maria arrived, my “night just getting started” energy a giveaway among the sea of opposites. It took me a minute to identify her as the leggy blur out of the corner of my eye. Her jacket covered most of her body, but her legs acted as a mischievous distraction. Long with a gorgeous shape, they each ended in a geometrically-confusing, but undeniably sexy pair of heels. The coup de grace: tightly-squared fishnet tights painted on her legs, making any attempt to move my eyes off them a Herculean task. She effortlessly slides into the seat across from me, somehow ignoring my thirsty leers. A tinged “hey” from her mouth accompanied by an equal parts guilty and giddy smile.
I ask her what I can get her as she settles into the hightop chair. Gin and tonic. Maria’s big, expressive blue eyes catch me on my way back from the bar, I pull myself back from the edge of falling into them.
Handing her her drink, I joke that apparently she didn’t have time to change tonight, going off her fishnets. That impossible smile back across her lips as she answers “I didn’t want to disappoint,” before cutely struggling to own up to her confidence by clarifying that she didn’t want to disappoint “by being late again.”
The sharp taste of gin replaces what my confused body likely anticipated to be morning orange juice. I take a hearty sip, but am overshadowed by Maria who kicks the drink back and downs nearly half of it. Her lacy choker dances as the greedy gulps go down.
Chuckling at how much she took out, I ask if work was “that bad” tonight, absentmindedly she responds “Oh, we can talk about work after.”
I raise an eyebrow to her boldness, and raise my glass to catch up, her intentions betrayed by “after” when “later” could’ve held the mystique. She giggles and smiles in a way that could make you doubt that she ever said what you just heard seconds ago. I place my glass back down, the only thing distinguishing our two drinks being the dark lipstick caught on the cusp of hers. I’m flattered she touched up her makeup after work.
Clearing the tense air she remarks that my company must like me to put me up in a hotel like this. I laugh and agree, saying it surprises me too. Maria brings her drink back up to her lips and I tease that as hip and fancy as the bar is, “you should see my room.”
She downs the rest of her drink with my challenge, looking back at me wide-eyed with an increasingly feigned innocence, “I’d love that” her teasing response. Unwilling to waste an expensive drink, I match her and finish mine off, her foot gently teasing my leg below the hightop while her warm smile pretends nothing is happening above.
I gesture with my head, suggesting we leave. She smiles giddily and nods as we stand up and make our way to the elevators. As we get in she asks me if I remember someone from college, going into some story about how they got stuck in one of the dorm elevators for a few hours. I remember it vaguely, but can’t make sense of much as I find myself hypnotized by her fishnets. Tiny holes in a mesmerizing pattern, tiny windows to legs men would go to war for. I wouldn’t hate being stuck in an elevator with Maria for a few hours.
She finishes up the story as we wind down some tight hallways to my door. I excavate my pockets for a room key as Maria unbuttons her coat. She beats me by a half-second, my eyes unable to follow the keycard to the door as they catch on her instead.
**************************
**As intoxicating as Maria’s picture was, it did no justice to seeing her in person.** Coat in hand, she stood in front of me in nothing more than that little black dress, her curves somehow even more implausible. I couldn’t tell you what exactly she said in the moment my eyes drank her in, but I think it was a demure “What are you looking at?”
I walk a tightrope of composure, before responding that I’m just glad she wasn’t late tonight, that I wouldn’t have wanted her to waste any time changing. The lock on my door cycles through unlocking endlessly, my hand abandoned by my brain, keycard pushed up against the lock.
Toying cruelly with me she says that she would never want to do anything to be a bad city host for me. My hand miraculously remembers to turn the door handle and she elegantly slid into the room.
For all the jokes about the pretentiousness of the hotel, my room was a bit peculiar. Half of the room was wall-to-wall bed, much with padded headboards spanning the surrounding walls. When the lights came up, Maria vocalized the the sentiment as she draped her coat and bag on a nearby chair, the fishnet pattern outlined vividly on her ass as she bent over in her impossibly tight dress.
Maria catches my eyes on her body as she readjusts the top of her dress with a yank. She seductively raises her eyebrows, the smolder quickly melting under another smile and giggle. Her dress so revealing I can even watch the battle between her sweet personality and raging carnality brewing within her. I was curious how far it would go.
With a coy tone she points out that it seems like I really like her dress even if it wasn’t my first choice, again the seductive tease washed away by a bright-eyed giggle. Flickering wildly back and forth between personalities, Maria jokes that I should redeem myself by making a good choice “of what we do next.” I close the distance between the two of us and the sweet Maria disappears with a whisper in my ear, something like “I’m really good at following directions.”
I pull Maria in close, my hands on her back and hips, a hidden zipper on the back of the dress making itself known to my palm. She looks up to me, blue eyes absent of mystery, instead filled with desire as my lips take the lead.
I pin a delicate kiss to her lips and pull back, searching her eyes again for my next cue. My prompter has an amenable glow. I break eye contact to discover those dark lips curled up into a familiar satisfied grin. A smile showing the hand of her masterfully convincing meek act.
My lips rush to meet hers again, with nothing delicate about their reunion. I allow myself to get lost in the tension as my lips become more and more aggressive, hers keeping pace, her tongue teasing me with each further exchange.
Sliding my hands along her dress, I’m unsure where to begin. Our lips performing increasingly intricate stunts, it’s not long before my hand arrives on her hips, telegraphing its steady climb around to her ass. A curious whimper ricochets from Maria’s lips unintentionally as my fingers trace the fishnet patterns along her curves.
My curiosity gets the better of me: if that earns a whimper, then what happens if we up the ante? Our mouths now fit together, my finger continues to trace the pattern down her ass before grabbing a handful without warning. An excited moan is launched into me at full volume. Maria untangles her lips from mine, a fleeting moment of eye-contact before she forces her hands into my shirt.
Skin-to-skin, Maria’s hands studied me. I saved her the struggle and unbuttoned the front of my shirt, my hand reluctant to leave her back. Reaching the bottom buttons, I firmly guide her hands out of my way and unintentionally to the front of my pants. Maria giggles as I cast off my shirt, her hands remaining dutifully where they were moved.
Taking my bump as a suggestion, her hands knowingly explore the front of my pants, fingers arriving on the outline of my dick and celebrating the discovery with a squeeze. I return the favor as my hand gladly returns to its post on the back of her dress. Our kisses slow, but intensity remains. Lustful aggression giving way to the pleasure-promising long game.
Uncontainable noises of curiosity and satisfaction hold the room hostage as my hands climb the front of her dress and hers attempt their way down the front of my pants. Tugging at my belt to slip her hand below my waistband, Maria looks up and challenges me with a tease of a “Not gonna help me this time?” variety, gesturing to my crumpled shirt.
I believe I shot back a “what fun is that?” met with a giggle and a deep kiss, hands beginning their operation on my belt. My right hand toyed with the bottom of her dress, inviting it up with a gentle pull. For as short of a dress as it was, and for as short of a journey as was needed to uncover what lay below it, it fought me for every centimeter.
The dress and I eventually reached an agreement as I got one side of it halfway up. Frustrated noises reverberated from Maria’s lips as she managed to jam my belt in some elaborate fashion. Abandoning my bout with her dress out of mercy, I trace the exposed skin longingly before taking care of my belt.
Maria laid it on thick with a sultry “why thank you, sir” and a giggle. The button on my pants a much easier challenge. As she took the zipper down, she too went down to her knees. I take the last of my clothing off and look down, innocent blue eyes accused of lying by a guilty smirk. As I step each foot out of my boxers, I watch her tug the top of her dress back into place.
I don’t have long to think as Maria elegantly introduces her hand with my newly exposed cock. Stroking me with a teasing pace, Maria looks up to me once more, this time with a knowing expression of what will happen next.
That look set something off in me. Urges surfaced that demanded I act rather than enjoy how things were unfolding. No sooner than Maria planted a tempting kiss on the side of my shaft, I act on those urges, going down on a knee and scooping Maria off the ground. A startled yelp bursts from her as I lift her up, her arms uncertainly wrapping themselves around me.
I step across the room and toss Maria onto the massive bed. She sits up, leaning back on her hands and shoots me a look of confusion and excitement at what just happened. Maria quickly pulls off one of her shoes and tosses it in my direction as I fish around for a condom in my luggage.
Finding my prize, I toss the condom next to Maria as she leans forward to undo her second shoe, an ungodly amount of cleavage on display acting like an adrenaline shot to my veins.
I lunge onto the bed and pull Maria tight against me. I dance my lips down the parts of her neck her choker doesn’t reach before reaching her chest, Maria breathing heavily in anticipation. One of my hands ventures down the top of her dress while the other explores the back of it for its zipper.
Tiny moans emanate from Maria as I make myself intimately familiar with her chest and nipples. She finds her own fun as she reaches down for my achingly hard cock and works it over with her palm. Maria looks down to her handiwork and then back up to me, cocking her head to the side and whining, “I really wanted to give you head,” a unique phrase to hear from an estranged friend-of-a-friend or ex-girlfriend-of-a-friend’s-friend or however it was I originally met her.
Her words are a good reminder of why I tossed her onto the bed in the first place. I couldn’t resist her and had to go first. I divert both hands to working the zipper on the back of her dress before she returns to her refrain of “I told you it’s hard to get off,” before suggesting that it would be easier to just push the dress up, punctuated by a “trust me.”
Unwilling to hold off much longer, I sit up on my knees and lift Maria’s hips up as she wiggles the dress up to just below her belly button. Clearly inexperienced in this particular fashion choice, I grab her fishnet tights by either side and yank impatiently. The sound of tearing is accompanied by a “fuck” of ambiguous meaning. Assuming the damage had been done, I tear the front of her fishnets further, leaving only a pair of nondescript and lacy black material keeping me from her.
My hand skates over the top of the underwear before gently rubbing her over them. My hand moving so slightly, yet providing me with a wide collection of sounds from Maria, like tuning an erotic radio. Finally, I slide a couple fingers down the front, teasing her to a chorus of relieved sighs.
Flattered again by how excited she already was, I linger a bit too long, relying on my fingers to keep her satisfied while I shift my shoulders to her hips. In as fluid a gesture as possible, I slip her underwear down her legs with both hands, collecting fishnet debris in the wake of their journey down her legs and onto the edge of the bed. Not a second longer than it takes to get them off one leg, I toss Maria’s thighs over my shoulders.
Having recognized Maria as fun to toy with all night, I take my sweet time. Slow, arhythmic kisses paint her inner thighs, hot breath making uncertain promises between her legs. Poorly-constructed offers pour from Maria’s mouth, bargaining that I give her the pleasure I’ve teased while I revel in her anticipation.
I struggle to keep up the act for long before I plunge my mouth between her legs. My tongue works around her slowly, like tuning an instrument to a new song. It’s not long before I find what she likes and I position my jaw to her conducting moans and cursing. She tasted like having your every desire filled.
I could’ve remained forever. Maria spoke dirty to me in hotly strange sentences as she squirmed and thrusted her hips. At some point Maria went quiet as I licked and sucked on her, before roaring back with urgent questions of when I was going to fuck her.
Just as I delighted in drawing-out my mouth’s introduction between her legs, I concluded it as slowly and delicately, opening the door to her increasingly desperate calls for me to fuck her. I sat back up to my knees and reached for the condom on the other corner of the endless bed.
I looked down to Maria, her dress now bunched up above her belly button, those beautiful blue eyes shooting angry daggers at me. I smile back at her as I tear open the condom wrapper and her facade breaks, a giggle and warm smile coming to her face accompanied by declarations that I’m cruel. I slide the condom on and lay myself down next to her.
Challenging her assertion, I joke that it seemed like she enjoyed herself, before she insisted that “I know what she wants” while her hand purposefully stroked my cock. My own fingers traced up and down her leg as if I didn’t just spend an eternity pressed against it. Maria lifted her leg as my palm reached her ankle, placing it in my grasp as she cooed about how “flexible she could be for me.”
Realizing we were on the same page, I got to my knees and raised both of her legs high in my hands before positioning myself. With good instincts, Maria grabbed my cock and slowly guided it into her, knowing that if she hadn’t I would’ve kept her in anticipation again. I look her in the eyes and smile, silently acknowledging her move as I thrust myself in her.
It was my turn to moan as I pumped in and out, Maria joining me shortly after. Just as I had always been cautious to stay away from the ledge, I slipped and fell deeply into her eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to break eye contact as each wave of sensuality rolled through us with each thrust. I was completely under her spell. She returned the favor, mouth agape looking back at me, save an occasional biting of her lip.
Like hypnosis we kept this up until Maria begrudgingly told me her legs were tired and I pulled out, rolling deeper into the corner of the bed. Legs the only part of her that was tired, she crawled her way over to me, putting a hand on my chest and blindsiding me with a heavy kiss.
Maria’s lips worked their way across my face, occasionally taking a moment to pull back and study my face with a warm smile. What was going through her head? Her hand, ever-devoted to making me feel good, caressed my cock, jerking it up and down in broad strokes. I closed my eyes lightly in relief before I felt her toss a leg on top of me.
I pulled myself up as though I was reading her thoughts, resting my upper back against the leather-padded headboard. Maria straddled me, planting slow, dirty kisses on my cheek, humming in my ear. I mumble something about how I didn’t know she had this side to her. Maria pulls herself back from my cheek, just enough to trap me again in her eyes, while her hips dip to meet my own.
Having already proved her mastery of dirty talk, she lets her eyes form sentences for her. Her response boldly ignoring all context and explaining that this is just a sweet moment between estranged friends, while her lower half betrays the sentiment, primally grinding against my cock.
In the matter of one heavily eye-shadowed blink those eyes catch the sinister flame from her body. A hand forcing me back into her before rejoining its partner clamped down on my shoulder. Hands that once seemed to be clinging to me for balance, were now using my shoulders as tools of leverage, pinning me down as an added bonus while nails dug into flesh.
Perhaps retribution for all my teasing, Maria rode me hard with a sort of fury. Each time I grabbed her hips to control the tempo she’d force down on me even harder, pressing her chest closer to my face, disarming me with her curves, the top of her dress now failing miserably to contain them.
Utterly off-guard by the sea change, I feel helpless to rebel. Instead I kiss and suck that which was thrust upon me, my body eager to obey, shifting and contorting to accommodate her every maneuver. Rearing back to sweep the hair out of her face, Maria looks down at me. My dick claimed deep within her, a smug satisfaction in her eyes. An empress looking down on the city she ordered razed. Whatever was once perceived as sweet ingenue was now perverted to villainess by chemistry, with no clear trace left behind.
“Fuck” the only word I can muster to summarize the situation. Maria rode me at a spitefully slow pace. It felt euphoric inside of her, the sensation tempting me to break our duelists’ eye contact and let myself go. This is her revenge, seemingly enacted for me ever thinking this wasn’t the kind of girl she was.
Instead I wrap my arms around her lower back and pull her off-balance on top of me. I thrust deep into her with the added leverage, non-verbally conceding that we now had an understanding, but this wasn’t the end of it. A treaty between nations. I make this point known with a few more pumps before delicately tossing her to the center of the bed.
I sat up fully, clambering my way to Maria, who wasn’t as fast to concede and was now up to her knees. Our lips are the first to touch, before I feel her open palm on my chest, trying to push me down. I hold firm as she employs her other hand to negotiate with my dick. Fingers wrapped around my shaft, enticing me to quit with the struggle. It’s a strong argument, but I instead bring myself onto my own knees.
Maria’s eyes flickered through a gamut of plans before settling into the demure air that started it all as I rise above her. Words finally return to us as Maria teasingly asks me in so many words, “What are you planning?” Each syllable painted innocent but lusty at their core.
I swing myself behind Maria, scattering kisses on her back and neck. My hands tend to her chest, her own fingers tracing elegant patterns on the back of them in approval. Maria holds her head back, moans and murmurs dripping out when I do something especially nice. Once I had my fill, I replaced my lips with my palm at the base of her neck, gently pushing her forward.
Maria slides forward, relishing in the theatricality of it. Supporting herself on her hands, she bucked her hips upward. The exact words have long left me, but all I remember is she said something expressing her strong approval of my “plan” and my blood boiling. These words were, of course, accompanied by a look over her shoulder, eyes shooting a look of teasingly disingenuous submission and a grin.
I grab hold of her hips, pushing her slinking dress further up her back with my thumbs. We both knew we only had so much left, Maria pulled out all the stops.
Arching her back with the extravagance of a professional, and challenging me with lust-drenched vocabulary, it wasn’t long before I gave her everything she wanted.
Making a case for the loudest guests the hotel’s ever heard at that hour, we both try to outdo the other. Her hair reaches down to her back, bouncing on her crumpled dress with each of my thrusts or pushes of her hips. Meanwhile the front of her hair again falling over her face which was turned to the side fixated on something. I ask what she’s looking at, but am only met with pleas of “Don’t stop.” I happily oblige.
The pace screams forward before she catches whatever sensation she was chasing. “Bathroom mirror” she calls out, head slung downward in exhaustion as I continue to break up her words with my thrusts. Already close myself, it dawns on me. I lean forward a bit, but my angle is blocked by a semi-shut door: she has a full view of our deed in the distant reflection.
I drop my pace to a slow rhythm, asking her if it’s a nice view, doubting internally that it could ever top my own: Maria’s otherworldly curves colliding into me with each push. I tease her with requests for what exactly she sees. Beyond happy to play along, Maria began describing her view in salacious third-person detail.
She spun a tale of the “rude man who couldn’t even help the kind lady take off her dress” and how he was “fucking her instead.” Outmatched by her words again, I can’t control myself. Somewhere in the middle of her describing “how much the kind lady liked it” in labored breaths, I’m finished. My mind bends as I lose myself within her.
Maria coos sinister satisfaction back to me, her narration trailing off as she collapses onto her forearms. I’m reluctant to pull out of her, throwing my spent body on the bed next to hers. I catch my breath before she rolls over.
The rage having passed from her eyes, she’s beautiful. We kiss as she pulls herself in close to me and we both recover.
A long moment passes before the silence is broken. Maria giggles that she’s serious about this dress before rolling onto her stomach and instructing me in how to help her out of it. Regardless of if its seductive qualities, the dress was a serious test to get off. Our eventual hard-earned victory is greeted by a sigh of relief from Maria as she casts the dress to the ground and heads to the bathroom.
Lying in my own satisfaction, Maria rejoined me, rolling herself onto my chest, nearly completely bare shy of her choker, jewelry, and makeup.
We pass in and out of quiet slumber for the next couple hours, talking for chunks of time, finally actually getting to know each other. She told me about the music she loved and her early cultural follies when she moved to London for grad school.
I told her about my work, how I despised that I had to head there in a couple hours. We had a lot in common. Inevitably we came back on the topic of the sex. We held similar opinions with Maria facetiously critiquing it, noting that she couldn’t give it a full 10/10 because “it could have used more hair pulling.”
Like I blinked and half an hour passed, I woke to my phone alarm indicating that I had to get ready for work. I snuck out from under Maria as peacefully as I could, leaving her sleeping lightly as I closed the bathroom door for a shower. As the water ran over me, my mind darted to a million different places. While I wasn’t a ghost, I felt like I was in some sort of dream. Endorphins, booze, and jet lag clouding all perspective.
Nearly finished, the bathroom door opened, Maria stepping in. She had a statuesque beauty that I observed each step as she entered under the water to join me. She moved so very confidently naked, I couldn’t blame her. Before I could even speak, she put a finger to my lips, a deceptively sweet look in her eyes.
Delicately, Maria took my hand and led me to the edge of the shower, water striking at my back. Before I could follow her train of thought, she was on her knees, hand reacquainting itself with my dick. Before the pleasure could even meet my brain, her mouth was around my cock.
Maria worked me in and out of her mouth with a brutal efficiency. Not prepared to experience this level of pleasure again a couple hours removed from our last bout, I would’ve let her do anything to me. Unabashedly, my gaze wanders downward, voyeuristically in my own life. Whatever was left of Maria’s makeup was being undone by errant splashes of water, her hand wrapped skillfully around the base of my dick. Her wine-painted nails a reminder of the pictures that set this all off: no dress this time and her phone replaced with something different altogether.
Masterful technique blended with these thoughts pushed me to the edge. I let out a groan and Maria’s eyes darted up to meet my own, a smugness lingering within them again.
Subconsciously, my hand reaches around and grabs a handful of Maria’s hair. Her moan answers mine, as she makes short work of me. Looking up at me, but unable to hold her gaze while her tongue strikes me down, I let loose in her mouth.
I help Maria back to her feet on the slippery shower floor as she wraps her arms around me and swallows pronouncedly in my ear. “Unfinished business” she jokes, yet simultaneously asserting in simple terms that she always gets what she wants. It was the first blowjob I received that was so much more distinctly for her sake than mine.
Maria steps out, wrapping herself up in a hotel robe. Her torrent of jokes not slowing as she sweetly teased that for someone that ruined her tights and got her hair wet, she surprisingly still likes me.
As the bathroom door closed behind her, I waited to wake up again, realizing the last several hours were multi-tiered dreams.
Instead I dried myself off. I discovered Maria squatting by the mini fridge, looking at the various hotel amenities, eyes wide with a nymphlike wonder. Before she could finish her sentence asking if she could take something and pay me back, I told her the company pays for everything in the hotel and to knock herself out. She looked like I had just gifted her a new car.
Maria sat on the edge of the bed drinking canned apple juice while I cobbled together the last remaining outfit in my luggage. Together we came to the sad conclusion that this would be the last we’d see of each other, her working that night and me flying out in the early morning. It felt cruel. Undeniably the greatest sexual chemistry I had ever experienced and it was to be held to a single night.
Regardless, Maria filled our last remaining minutes with warmth, making kindhearted remarks about how she “knew we should’ve been better friends in college” as though we were at our 50 year school reunion rather than having just fucked each other silly. I hand her my extra keycard and tell her to stay as long as she wants, which she happily accepts, curling back up in bed and turning on the TV.
Dressed and ready to leave, I can’t bring myself to do it. Swerving at the end of every goodbye with a “I’m just glad you wanted to meet up” or “it was really great getting to catch up,” physically unable to walk out. Mercifully, Maria steps out of her cozy blanket nest and walks over to me, bemoaning the thought of me getting fired due to her.
“Now,” I remember her starting with, “If your work ever sends you back over here, you better let me know,” before pulling me in for a deep kiss. The taste of sex and apple juice on her mouth a poetic sensation. Our lips regaling each other with threats of what we’d do to each other if I didn’t have to step out that door. My body wants to act on it, my left hand dipping into the front of her robe before being caught with a tight grip by Maria’s right. “Go.” She ordered with a smile and a laugh.
We shared one final kiss before I stepped out, her leaving me with a smile that melts my heart even in memory.
If sexual tension and exhaustion made work hard before, I was completely lost at sea that last day. Like a teenager with his first crush, I couldn’t help but think of our new friendship. Work bled into drinks at the end of the night, staff from the London office thanking me profusely for disrupting my schedule to come work through stuff with them.
The pleasure, was truly all mine.
Upon returning to my hotel room, I was disappointed but not terribly surprised to not find Maria waiting for me. The bed was made, the room was washed away of anything aside from the belongings of a traveling ghost.
At least one thing was different.
I walked over to the bedside table to discover the wadded up ball of Maria’s destroyed fishnets along with a note on the hotel’s letterhead. It read: “You owe me a pair of fishnets!” Angry-faced cartoons surrounded the words. At the bottom, I realized this was a ransom note, “If you ever want to see your joggers again, you will buy me a new pair. I have very specific tastes.” Signed at the bottom “We will talk details,” with her name just below.
Sure enough, I walked over to my immaculately packed suitcase. My beloved joggers gone.
I stuffed the fishnets in their place and experienced a very long, uncomfortable flight home in slacks. The flight wasn’t all bad, as I didn’t need any entertainment aside from the replay of the last coupled days looping over and over again in my head.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/gtnbdf/mf_mixing_business_with_pleasure_or_how_i_learned