Leaning in close and flashing what she hoped looked like a nervous smile, she said, "It's a bit awkward. This bag..." She gestured at her hand luggage. "...it belongs to her. She's one of the models here for the photoshoot." The man nodded hisunderstanding. "I have to get this to her and she's..." Amy pretended to hesitate. "Highly strung, if you know what I mean? I could get her down here but I really don't want to get screamed and shouted at. Not in front of everyone else. Not while she's doing her beauty routine." The look she gave him mixed anxiety and hope, a look that she hoped would melt his heart.
He thought for a minute, pursed his lips then nodded. "The models are the worst..." he confided in her as he slipped her a key card. "Room 512. I didn't tell you." He winked and she smiled.
“You’re a life saver, thank you so much.”
***
Ok, here we go, she thought as she rode the lift up to the fifth floor. She checked herself in the mirror, her hair looked kind of windswept so she quickly tied it up in a ponytail, her make-up was ok, she looked a little tired but that was ok too. And her cheeks were flushed, which she knew she couldn't blame entirely on the heat.
The door opened and she stepped out into a silent hallway. The thick carpet muffled her steps as she walked. Her heart pounded harder with each step, a good kind of nervous, the kind that comes before a moment of joy. In her head she could picture Luisa's eyes lighting up and her smile, just like when they'd seen each other at the cocktail bar in Clapham what seemed like longer than five days before. The reaction that makes you want to hold that person and never let them go.
She stopped at the door. Room 512. The key card felt smooth in her palm, but she also knew she was sweating, the nerves again. She hesitated, lifted her hand to knock, then hesitated again.
Was she supposed to knock? She wasn't sure. They were an item, in love. You didn't knock on your lover’s door, did you? It felt wrong, it felt like a step back for her.
Amy took a deep breath. She was overthinking this, doing exactly what she told Luisa not to do.
She could let herself in, of course she could. Luisa wouldn't mind. She tapped the card against the reader and it clicked softly, the light going green. She pressed down on the handle and the door opened without a sound, expensive, solid, like everything in the hotel.
And Amy stepped inside.
Luisa
Amalfi
The sheets lay half on the floor, and what was still on the bed was twisted in a damp knot under Luisa’s back, the cotton soaked through with sweat. Her sweat, Bel’s sweat, who knew by then?
The room smelled of sea, sweat and wine, in that order, but the gentle night time breeze blowing in from the Mediterranean kept the air circulating, cooling them down. Moonlight came through the open door to the balcony, aided by a lamp in the corner, but otherwise the room was in darkness.
She couldn’t remember how long they’d been in bed. Certainly long enough that they’d opened the half-sized bottle of prosecco in the minibar, their empty glasses discarded on the bedside table.
Certainly long enough that her body ached in that unique way it did after an evening with Bel, the usual uncomplicated to andfro, the taking turns for one to give in to the other, feeling like she’d been in a gloriously pleasurable wrestling match.
And certainly long enough that any residual reluctance she’d felt, any guilt from not quite managing to say no, had evaporated into the night air.
Bel’s head was between her thighs again, Luisa’s turn to acquiesce, and Luisa was focused on the moment, eyes closed and everything else forgotten as her attention narrowed down to Bel doing things to her that felt so, so good.
Bel’s tongue was gentle but relentless, touching her in a way that made Luisa’s back arch and her toes curl. Her hands, warm and firm, held Luisa’s hips, pressing them down whenever she tried to buck them, holding her precisely where Bel wanted her.
One of Luisa’s hands gripped the bedframe while the other was in Bel’s hair, trying to ground herself and stop herself floating away. Inside, Luisa could feel herself winding tighter and tighter, a spring coiling up almost impossibly tight, getting so very, very close with each drag or flick of Bel’s tongue.
The sounds… well, those were sexy as hell. The quiet, wet sound of Bel’s tongue, her breath coming through her nose, Luisa’s breath coming irregularly in little gasps and moans, the occasional sound of Luisa’s heals against Bel’s back when a spasm shook through her.
Bel’s hand slid from her hips, her fingers slipping easily into Luisa, curling them as her tongue continued its work, making Luisa’s hips jerk.
The spring uncoiled suddenly, Luisa’s head tipped back on the pillow, her hips lifting so high that even Bel couldn’t keep them down, her body shuddering, waves of pleasure rolling through her again and again, thighs clamped around Bel’s head, a wordless cry coming from her mouth.
After the first wave she rode it out, hips chasing the pressure from Bel’s tongue, her hand gripping Bel’s hair pulling her in tighter, trying to get every last ounce of pleasure from her.
It was only after the last wave broke, while Bel was still working with her tongue but gently now, soothing, bringing Luisa back down to earth as softly as she could, that Luisa opened her eyes.
She jumped, a reflex that Bel confused with another wave of her orgasm, her grip tightening on Luisa’s hips, her tongue speeding up again, but Luisa reached down to push her head away.
“Amy…” was all she could say. “I…”
But she trailed off.
Because what could she say at that moment to the woman she loved?
