“You’re sure you’re ready for this?” I turn the leather collar over in my hands, waiting for an answer.
“Yes, my queen.”
She decided on the title, not me. Still, it somehow makes me feel as powerful than any of the other things I’ve been called. In any case, I like having different people call me different things. I open the collar up and wrap it around her throat. A moment later it’s buckled on.
The musky scent of the candle fills the room. The combination of warm wax and spices always puts me in a mood. I imagine that after all these years together it does the same for her. The candles and the fire in the stove splash yellow and orange on the walls and makes it bright enough for me to see what I’m doing without any light bulbs on. It’s warm and comfortable.
We barely enter the club and she grabs my hand and tugs me away from the bar. Before I know it, I’m in wedged into a bathroom stall with her hands on my shoulders, pushing me down to my knees. My linen skirt bundles up around my knees and overflows out into the next stall. This would probably be embarrassing if I thought about it.
She giggles and her hand leaves my shoulder.
I drop my phone onto the bed and start pulling my clothes off in my dark bedroom. I’m exhausted. These long days are killing me. It’s after midnight and all I need is a full night’s rest. Sadly, I can only manage about six hours. I have to be back at work in the morning. I can’t wait for this project to be over and done with.
My sweater lands on the dresser, or at least that’s the intention.
I snuggle into her anonymous embrace a little tighter, aiming my mouth for her ear, I come very close to brushing my lips on the exposed skin on the side of her neck. “What’s your name?”
“Does it matter?” Her tone isn’t dismissive. It merely tells me she’d prefer not to say.
I lean up, taking myself far enough away from her that I can see her face and she can see my smile.
“I wish you would just get inside of me,” she whispers across the dimly lit hotel hallway. The ice machine humming behind her.
It is so casual, so quick, and so unexpected that I have to check if I heard right. “Excuse me?” After all, we had only barely exchanged glances.
“Oh. Um… never mind. I thought you were… you’re clearly not interested.” Her face flushes and she turns to go.
“Oh hi there, cutie.” The fingers of my left hand grip your short hair tight.
You smile wide. You love it when I’m rough with you. “Hello, goddess.”
I twist my hand, pushing your head all the way to the right, until your body follows and you are facing away from me. “That’s right. Lean against the wall.”
You put your palms up, and hold your weight against the wall.
My left hand fumbles at your side. The fabric of your crop top under my index finger and the curve of your waist guides the rest of my hand. My thumb makes slow, awkward arcs along your lowest rib.
I feel like I’m more nervous than I should be. I know what I’m doing; I should be calm, confident. I shut my eyes and take a breath in. The butterflies in my stomach refuse to calm down, but that’s okay.
My hand presses against their collarbone, pushing them backward into the headrest. Our eyes lock together. The lights of a car going down the street next to us illuminate their face perfectly, so I can see the shy curl of their lip, the contained enthusiasm.
I smile, letting my own eagerness bubble to the surface. This is starting to be a lot of fun.
They respond by knitting up their eyebrows and begging me wordlessly to keep kissing them.
You undress hurriedly, trying to shed the layers as fast as possible.
I lean back onto my heels, grinning and watching you as you reveal more and more of yourself to me.
In your enthusiasm, you’ve left your clothes piled at your feet in a disorganized mound.
I can understand. If I had been stopped so close to coming, I’d be eager to get started again as well. I toss the hitachi onto the bed and reach out, placing my hands firmly on your hips.