“Hi.” He drops his hands to his sides.
An awkward silence permeates in the air as I take him in.
God, he really is beautiful.
“Wanna come in?” I ask, opening the door wider.
“Okay.” Christopher steps inside as I quickly look down the hallway, making sure no one has seen him enter, and close the door behind me.
“Fuck me!” His voice echoes around the suite.
Wow. He doesn’t beat around the bush.
I turn around to see Christopher taking in the vastness of the room.
“A girl likes to be wined and dined a bit before dropping her panties for a man,” I laugh, trying to hide the grumbling in my stomach.
Christopher turns back to face me. His hazel eyes pierce into my soul.
“Oh. Erm. I mean… Fuck me, this suite. It’s massive.” He slides his hands into his pockets.
The stuttering of his speech instantly settles my stomach.
He’s nervous too.
“Oh yeah, right. Want a tour?” I ask.
“Sure, if you want.” He shrugs his shoulders.
The tension feels palpable as I walk through the lounge area, pointing out all the features. I get the sense that Christopher’s trying to play it cool. But maybe this is what he’s actually like when he’s on his own.
Gone is the witty, sarcastic Christopher I’ve encountered so far. This is a far more reserved and cooler version.
I walk to the window, pulling the curtains open to reveal the main road below. The view is slightly blurry from the rain droplets against the window, but the faint sound of my fans still echoes below, still there come rain or shine. The night lights of the skyscrapers across London shine in the midnight sky as Christopher edges closer to me.
“If you look over there, you can just about make out the BT Tower.” I point to the left, recalling the sights on the skyline one of the hotel staff showed me.
He steps up, pressing himself gently into me, and I feel the warmth of his body against mine and his legs straddled to either side. As he leans over my shoulder, I feel his semi-erect penis through his jeans, rubbing up against my left ass cheek.
“Where did you say?” His minty-fresh breath passes by my left ear.
The smell of the sandalwood from his cologne fills my nostrils as I reach for his hand, pulling it up to the window to point toward the tower. My hand fits perfectly on top of his.
“Right there.” I push my ass back ever so gently into him, and I feel his cock grow harder with every passing moment.
He leans in even closer, his breath shallower. His mouth is mere millimeters from my left earlobe.
“So, you’re saying you’d be the bottom in theseinteractions?”
My body stiffens and he pulls back. I read the subtext of what he’s insinuating, but I’m thrown by the comment.
It’s been a moment since I’ve last been intimate with a man and had a conversation about what role I take sexually. But interactions? That’s a funny word to use, and then it dawns on me—that’s Paul’s code word.
I make my way back to the couch, noticing the sheepish look on Christopher’s face as I motion him to follow. I pick up the remote to mute the TV. He keeps a slight distance as we sit down, a pillow separating the two of us. I yearn for his body to be touching mine again, but we should talk about what he’s just signed.
“Thank you for signing the document, I appreciate it.” I rest my hand on the pillow as I wait for his gaze to meet mine.
I want to address our sexual preferences, but I can feel my avoidance kicking in, and this low-hanging fruit feels easier to navigate.
