The motel was worse than Milene expected, definitely low-rent and in need of repair. Several disreputable-looking characters hung out in the parking lot, checking her out as she drove in. Drug dealers, Milene assumed, or maybe drug users. Or pimp types. This looked like the kind of motel that rented by the hour, as the saying goes. Then again, that's essentially what Milene was there for, so who was she to judge?
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She got into the hotel elevator on the 7th floor, wearing nothing a swimsuit with a towel around her waist, at the same time I got out, and I knew I had to follow her.
There was no doubt it was the same woman I'd noticed that morning as I'd left for the conference, leaving room 713 just after I'd walked out of 717. She'd had on a perfectly smooth pencil skirt over black hose or stockings, a matching jacket, three-inch heels, and a white blouse--the kind of business attire that drives me to distraction every single time.
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Falling flat on my face was not the greatest way to start off the evening but there you have it. I was unpacking taped cardboard boxes in my newly rented apartment. Such a hassle.
"How's it going?"
Someone had stepped inside. I forgot I had left the front door open. He was a very big man, somewhere around 6'2 wearing all leather. Quite intimidating actually but he was smiling and seemed friendly.
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Thursday Night. I head home from work after another long day at the office. Fortunately, the trains are on time; I'm tired and hungry. I could use a hot meal and a shower, but, it's Thursday.
I walk up to my apartment door and unlock it. I know what's waiting for me. It's Thursday night. It's her night. I enter my apartment and she's there waiting for me. She's as beautiful as ever and as naked as the day God graced us with her presence on Earth.
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"Ten full minutes. You gotta lay there, on your back, totally nude. Hands behind your head so you can relax."
"Relax, right."
How Mike and I wound up in this bizarre, slightly hilarious situation was fueled by very cheap beer and overactive 19 year old hormones. Well, Mike was 19, I was 18, and we'd been buddies since sophomore year of high school. Mike was a bit of a paradox. He was a soccer player who wasn't a jock, a metal head who wasn't a burnout, and a good student who wasn't a nerd.
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"Be seated, my dear." The woman indicated an armchair in front of her large oak desk. The young woman sat, legs primly together, her green eyes glancing around, taking in her new surroundings.
"You have been sent here by your family for training," the woman said. She had a kind face, and her lips curved naturally into a slight smile.
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As a writer here, I am quite different.
I write for women! I write in the 1st and 2nd person present text. I write for those women that are sexually bored, sadly underappreciated in their roles as girlfriend, wife and mother, or frightfully inhibited, but hiding a secret insatiable fantasy side...I write for those women that yearn to be in the grasp of strong, successful, attractive dominant men...men that are mysterious, successful, powerful, erotic.
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Crack. The sound slices like a steel blade through the chatter of the conference room. Heads whip around, staring at me, while I stare at the broken glass of water. The glass of water I was supposed to bring.
"Well don't just stand there, clean the bloody thing up."
I bend down, black pencil skirt riding up slightly as I gingerly pick up the delicate shards of glass.
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Hi. My name is Tina. I am now 41 years old and have been married to my current husband since I was 28. I have 2 boys ages 21 and 17. This is my first story ever to be put on line and it is the one that may explain my journey of self discovery in sexual matters well beyond anything I ever thought I would do, much less enjoy.
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Simon was sitting on the sofa watching the boxing. It was late and his wife wasn't home yet. She had gone out to a club to celebrate a job promotion with her mother. He didn't like his mother in-law, but still his wife had convinced him to let her stay with them when her house caught fire. She treated him like he was beneath her. Nothing he ever did was good enough.
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