This wasn’t the Ritz. It wasn’t even a four star hotel. Lightly faded beige carpet and an acrid smell of old cigarette smoke weren’t quite an aphrodisiac, and for a moment Rebecca felt ridiculous.
She knew she shouldn’t have been there, in this grubby little room in this grubby little B & B just off the motorway.
A slick of red lipstick, a spray of perfume, perfectly curled brunette hair tumbling around her shoulders. Yes, she knew she looked ready for him. But was she?
Rebecca adjusted her black lace bra. Her breasts protruded invitingly, begging to be explored. Matching panties skimmed her curvy hips and she felt an electrifying excitement at the prospect of him pulling them off her, finally, after all these months of dizzying attraction.
She sat on the bed, and waited. Silence cloaked her and she twisted her white gold wedding band nervously. She pushed her husband from her mind. She didn’t want thoughts of him here, in this room, on this night, with her lover.