I have a martini alone at the bar, checking my phone every two seconds, almost hoping that my husband will call and tell me to come home. He doesn’t. So I go to my room. I had sent a message to Nico, let’s call him that, telling him what room it was and asking him not to reply. I felt silly asking that, but I think I would have canceled the date if he had replied. I would have found an excuse to run away, and I didn’t want to go. I want him. Painfully. And that is the truth that is so hard to accept. 

My hands are shaking as I push the elevator button. Sixth floor. Breathe in. Breathe out. I laugh to myself, thinking how funny it would be if I had room number 666. It isn’t, but I would have found it fitting.

The elevator stops just as I start to relax, feeling the booze dancing in my veins, helping me do things I probably wouldn’t do if I were sober.

I hurry into the room, not wanting to run into him or anyone else.

The place has an elegant, antique feel to it. Red and gold colors mixed with white to make it look more upscale and less heavy. The lighting is soft and warm. I take a deep breath and sit on the bad, talking to the part of me that still wants to go home, that still feels dirty and wrong. And lost.

I hear the knock on the door and my blood immediately freezes. For a second I think I am glued to the mattress, unable to move.

“It’s show time.” I say under my breath, getting up and walking to the door on shaky legs. I open it and am hit by a fine smell of men’s lotion. It is overwhelming, more so today than ever. Or maybe I am finally brave enough to take a good look at him. Some people are truly chosen by the goddess of beauty, and Nico is one of them. He is wearing a shirt, light blue, dark jeans and a slim leather jacket. Casual chic, they call it. He has the right style. 

He flashes me a smile, so bright and charming it makes me cringe. 

“You look gorgeous.” He says, and something in his tone tells me he is nervous.  

I let him in, putting the “do not disturb” sign in its place.

He is sitting on the bed, jacket off, phone on the table by the window. I stop in front of him and look down at his beautiful young face.

“What now?” I ask, my voice so husky. So confident that it scares me for a moment.

“Whatever you want, ma’am.”

Maybe it is his submissive tone. Maybe it is the martini still working on my brain, or maybe I just feel like I am being my true self for the first time in a very long time. Whatever it is, it makes me lean in and kiss him. His kisses surprise me. He is skilled and passionate. I don’t feel any of the haste of youth. They are honest kisses, full of true desire. 

I feel my body pulsing, responding to his touch, his full lips, the smell of cologne. He runs his smooth hands through my dress, finding my thighs and squeezing them teasingly, moving his lips from mine to my neck. I moan and he undresses me and looks at my body, hungry. 

“Oh, how long I have waited for this.” He whispers, his voice breathy, his breath hot.

He wants me. I can see it in his eyes. An indescribable feeling of superiority and power comes over me and I smile, pulling his pants up and unzipping them as I lean down to kiss him again. I can’t get enough of this tongue that sends flashes of electricity through me. I grab his sex and feel myself flooded. Pulsating. Huge. 

I teasingly push him onto the bed and slowly make my way to his beautiful peace, licking it. Hearing him whimper and watching him bend over in pleasure fuels me. The wild woman in me awakens to take over the world. I take him in my mouth, the part that fits, of course, and suck him deliciously, feeling his hand pulling hard on my hair, smelling his manhood. It smells of sin and all the great things in life that are out of reach.

I can’t stand it anymore and move up, taking his cock in my hand and guiding it to the hungry opening between my legs. I almost lose my senses as he slides in, letting out a little cry of pure pleasure that’s so intense it almost hurts. 

I finally ride him. I feel every inch of him growing inside me as I move, slowly but passionately. He holds me by the hips and follows my movements, intensifying the feeling of being filled by so much hard flesh. 

I grab my own breast and enter the zone outside the reality of time and space, catching a glimpse of my body in the mirror beside the bed, moving up and down in aesthetic movements. I see my face. I am beautiful.

I ride harder, driving him deeper into me. He moans. I almost lose my senses as I climax for the first time. Nico takes advantage of my second loss of control and lays me on the bed, back up, doggie style, pulling my hips to him and entering me vigorously. I let out a cry of bliss and bite the pillow, grunting, rolling my eyes and moving my hips to help him fuck me harder. 

He pulls at my hair and brings his lips to mine. 

“I can’t hold it anymore.” He whispers, out of breath.

I laugh as he pulls out and turns me onto my back, bringing his lips to my vulva, sucking and licking until I lay my face on the pillow beside me, arching my body in ways I never thought possible. 

I am still shaking as he lies down next to me and guides my hand to his cock. I am out of breath, but I say.

“You deserve better than this, honey.” And I take my mouth to his sex and give him what he deserves. 

He cums and I feel the power I have over him ignite me once more.

We are finished now, after two more times of intense pleasure. I kiss him gently and he asks me, hopefully, as I can tell by the look on his face.

“Can I see you again? Like this, I mean?” 

I take his package in my hand. 

“Oh… yes.” I mumble.

It’s around midnight when I get home. I take another shower to smell like the me that I am here. I check on my kids, sound asleep in their beds, and go to my husband. Too tired to feel guilty.

I’m surprised to see his silhouette sitting upright on the bed.

“Are you okay?” 

“Can you do one more?” he asks.

I laugh and go to him. I am actually tired, but he looks so handsome in the blue light of the moon sneaking in through the window, and my God, how I love him. 

I let him kiss me and I feel how intensely passionate he is and my body surprises me by getting ready for another act. 

“You smell good.” He said as he undresses me.

No, I smell of another man and that is the drive. He devours me deliciously. 

I let him. Happily. After all, he has something to prove, doesn’t he?