Leaving working she notices she feels nervous, horny, and a bit worried as she has never done this. Getting to the hotel she knocks at the door as he ...pens it she notices a glass of champagne on the table the lights on, and he is wearing a bath robe. Feeling a bit pressured she says giving me a few minutes I would like to shower. Getting into the shower she notices how excited she is getting and how it she feels between her legs. Turning off the shower she towels herself off and puts on one of. What were my options? Read a book? Watch a movie or the TV? Go and see a friend? Long neglected domestic chores? Get drunk? The last two seemed the best, activity or oblivion being the best way to blot out the horror that was my new reality.I poured myself a very large whiskey and downed half the glass with one gulp, and then I headed to the bookcase. I needed something to occupy my mind until the anesthetic of the alcohol started working. There it was, even in my despair the irony somehow. His naked body lay exposed beneath hers. Her hands began to massage his stomach, softly, gently, lighting him up like wildfire. He thought he would die of desire, as he lay there, exposed, open, his raging passion open for her to see, nonchalantly. Her hands felt like electric currents upon his skin, lighting a trail of glory in their wake.She began to stroke the inside of his legs. He was very sensitive inside his legs, and with each move of the hand his body leaped. Her hands against his skin. Is there something wrong, miss?’ ‘No, nothing’s wrong. Thank you.’ I was relieved to at least determine that no outsider had been in my room … at least my room provided some kind of sanctuary. I wondered should I be worried … was I being stalked. Something deep within told me ‘no’. A little voice deep within me was whispering, in fact, that perhaps something extraordinary was coming my way. I opened one of the new discs and inserted it in to the stereo and once again the dulcimers and harps.
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