She's a living vision of neat and proper. Her soft brown hair is pulled into a neat French twist, her makeup immaculate and just enough to bring out the features of her face. Her fingernails are clean, even and the clear polish catches the light as she strides across the lobby of the hotel. Sheer black stockings cover long legs that disappear beneath the knee-length red raincoat that matches the soles of her simple black pumps. Small diamonds glitter on the lobes of her ears and the purse over her shoulder isn't large enough to double as an overnight bag but it looks to hold all the essentials.

 

The young clerk checking her in is polite and efficient, even though his eyes do drop to the hint of cleavage as she unbuttons the top button of her raincoat. She's warm and thankful when he slides the key card across the desk. Businessmen in the lobby about to leave for dinner turn to watch as she makes her way to the elevator. More than a few suggest to others that they wish she would be waiting in their room.

 

The eighth floor is nearly deserted this time of the day but she passes a couple that look ready for a night out on the town. The door at the end of the hall is closed and when she gets closer she sees the Do Not Disturb placard has already been put in place. She fumbles with the key card and looks up when the door to the next room opens. An elderly couple step out, the man holding a large black umbrella in one hand. She smiles politely and when the umbrella falls to the floor she goes to pick it up, offering it back with a warm smile.

 

"Such a sweet young lady, Dear."

 

The words reach her as she finally gets the door open and it sends a pang of regret through her. Young? Yes. Sweet? Not even close. A lady? She snorts as she closes the door, eyes on the carpet as she tosses the key card and her purse onto the foot of the bed. Turning, she raises her head to look at her reflection in the mirror and sees him, sprawled in the middle of the bed. Her breath catches when their eyes meet and she reaches to unbutton the raincoat.

 

A lady doesn't meet a man in a hotel wearing nothing but a raincoat. A lady doesn't leave her raincoat on the floor and crawl into bed with the man. A sweet young lady doesn't do what she's about to do.

 

*

 

It's his birthday. He's supposed to be getting ready to hit the club that his friends were going to rent out for his party. He's supposed to be excited that he's going to have a great time with them. Instead, he's with her. He started the train rolling a few days ago so he wouldn't be pissing off everybody at the last minute. They all thought he would spend the day and night at home, in bed, getting over the flu.

 

He knows there's something wrong with playing hooky and wrong doesn't even describe bailing on his friends. But they'll never understand that he'd rather be here. In this hotel room with this beautiful woman. Besides, he promised he'd come to the club later. Once he gets his fill of her for the night.

 

It's the hotel room they first met in, all those months ago when he decided to try it out and see how it went. The sex had been apocalyptic. They had talked over the phone a few times before meeting so there had been no awkwardness.

 

In exchange for her time, energy and company, he takes care of her. The diamond earrings she has on are the ones he gave her around Valentine's Day. The soft perfume that invades his senses just before their lips meet is from the bottle he gave her before Easter. He gives her trinkets or gifts each time they're together. And, three weeks into their arrangement, when she muttered something about needing another job to help pay back student loans, he had been struck with brilliance. A quick peek into the checkbook in her purse when she was in the bathroom had given him all he needed to make a simple inquiry. Three days later she had called him, bubbling with excitement and shock over the fact he'd paid off the loans. What did he want in return? Just more of her time.

 

His fingers slide into her hair loosening it from the pins. Her lips are soft and taste of chocolate and a little moan pulls from her throat. The pins are tossed aside one by one until her hair tumbles down. He sighs, inhaling the scent of her shampoo as she settles over him. He's already hard, pants straining and when he feels how hot she is he goes weak. She breaks the kiss, head tilting to one side as she presses her naked body down on the ridge of his cock.

 

"Did you have a good day?" she asks, hands curving over his shoulders before sliding down. Slender fingers flick open the buttons of his blue dress shirt. When it falls open she runs her hands up and down his bare chest and torso, a pleased sigh fanning over his neck.

 

"It was okay." His hands frame her face to bring her in for another kiss though his mind is on points south as she rocks her hips back and forth. He can feel that she's wet. He wants to see. "It's my birthday."

 

She stops abruptly, sitting straight up. "Your birthday? Why didn't you tell me? I would have gotten you something—"

 

"You're giving me something right now," he promises with a grin, tongue darting over his lips as he takes in her naked form. Her breasts fit his hands, peaked nipples standing proud. He traces the curves with his thumbs, eliciting a moan. Her blue eyes darken with desire.

 

"JC…"

 

"Shh." It's probably the first time he's ever shushed her. His fingers lightly tweak her nipples and she squirms in his lap. "Do something for me?"

 

"What do you want me to do?" The hands resting on his chest slide lower in anticipation of his answer but he shakes his head.

 

"Touch yourself." JC watches her eyes widen and grins. "You told me you do… I want to see you do it."

 

She's already breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling rapidly and he knows she's turned on. He also knows the prim and proper woman that enters his room turns into a woman with a hyperactive sex drive and no inhibitions as soon as the door closes. Her eyes are almost black now. Her nails scrape down his abdomen before lifting up to push away his hands.

 

JC licks his lips and lets his hands fall to the mattress, leaning back against the pillows to watch. Her eyes on his face as she slides her hands up the length of her torso to cup her breasts. The hardened nipples poke between her fingers and she squeezes them, pushing her breasts together before letting them fall back into place. He curls his fingers in the sheet, already longing to touch her while he watches her breasts bounce. "Tell me how it feels."

 

"It's so good," she whispers. She pulls and plucks her nipples until they're dark and swollen. "When you do this with your teeth it turns me on so much. I get so fucking wet."

 

Yes. He loves the dirty talk. When she spits out raunchy words usually spoken by a porn star it sends his pulse racing and his dick twitching. Her hips roll pressing down harder on his cock and he can feel her getting wetter. But he wants to see it. He brings his hands to her knees and nudges them apart, a groan vibrating in his throat when she leans back. The movement lifts her off his dick but now he can smell her. That sweet, tangy scent that makes his mouth water.

 

Until her, he'd never gone down on a woman willingly.

 

One hand falls down, cupping the slick skin he wants to lick and they both moan when she parts her slit. He watches her middle finger enviously, wanting it to be his finger dipping inside. Wanting it to be his tongue flicking over her clit instead of her thumb. His pulse is pounding in his ears, he can no longer hear her whispered words as she tells him how good it feels and how close she is to coming. The finger slowly pumping in and out of her is soaking wet and when she pulls it out completely he grabs her wrist, leaning up as he pulls her down. He sucks it clean, eyes meeting hers.

 

"I want to come," she pants. "I was so close, JC—"

 

She squeals when he grabs her hips and throws her down beside him. He's usually tender but somehow the game has changed and there's no room for tenderness. She sits up to stare at him as he kneels between her legs, a surprised shriek echoing in the room when he grabs her hips and yanks so she's lying down.

 

"Fuck," she yells when his mouth closes over her clit. Her fingers claw at the sheet and if he wasn't holding her hips so tight she would be thrashing. She can hear the slurp of his tongue, the erotic sound of his fingers pushing into her wetness. She tries to wiggle away because it's too intense too soon but he locks his arm over her pelvis, pinning her down for his oral assault. He's never been this…brutal…before. The tingles that had started when she was teasing herself in his lap have turned into full-blown strikes of lightning. His tongue is teasing, barely brushing over her clit as his fingers pump in a relentless rhythm. With each stroke of his fingers he brushes that spot deep within her that takes every other man she's been with forever to find and she knows she won't last long. She cries out, finally tangling her fingers in his dark curls. Pushing him down. The hand at her hip tightens painfully but she's already at the edge, reaching. He sucks hard at her clit and his fingers slam into her to stay, manipulating that spot with unyielding pressure. The lightning explodes within her and she screams as she comes, fingers tightening in his hair until she feels her nails biting into his scalp.

 

He's a conscientious lover, easing his assault until she's relaxed. His tongue is gentle as it sweeps down to catch every drop. His fingers ease out and he sucks them clean, wiping his chin as he once again kneels in front of her.

 

She watches, panting, as he shrugs out of his shirt. A bead of perspiration slides from his neck, over his collarbone, down his chest and circling a nipple before skittering to the trail of hair that begins at his navel. She struggles to catch her breath and whimpers when he flicks open the button of his pants. The zipper goes down seemingly of its own accord and as soon as his cock is free she's sitting up. Sweet kisses press to his abdomen and her tongue dips into his navel as her hands cup his length and give him slow strokes. His hand catches her hair and gives it a tug as he shifts on his knees. She parts her lips and breathes hotly on the turgid skin before looking up at him.

 

"Not tonight."

 

A new phrase for him. Usually it's the first thing she does when she arrives in the room. She can remember those first nights when he was waiting at the door and it barely closed before she was on her knees. But she doesn't question his reasoning, instead giving a nod as he pulls her up so she's kneeling in front of him. His kiss is tender, searching and the hands framing her face are gentle and loving.

 

Loving is not something she's used to on their nights together.

 

His breath is coming in short pants as he breaks the kiss into several short pecks. He drinks in the aroma of her and knows he'll never be able to have coffee without thinking of her. "Baby, I—"

 

"Shh." Her finger slides over his lips to hush him and then she's nudging him back. Kneeling over him, she plucks a condom from her purse and before he can reach for her it's on and she's guiding the tip of his cock along her slit.

 

"Don't tease," he whispers. His hands grasp her hips and squeeze. She peers at him through the tousled locks hanging in her face and then she lets her head fall back, hands dropping to his chest as he guides her down his length. He arches up in anticipation and the last thing he's aware of is their mutual cries of delight.

 

He's on autopilot, the pleasure so overwhelming that he sees but doesn't comprehend the sight of her as she rides him. Her breasts bounce and sway and her face contorts in ecstasy but it's all like a dream. He likens it to a movie when there's a flashback and the movements are slow, the sound echoing until it zips back to the present time. He wishes there was a way he could rewind it over and over again to re-experience the euphoria. It's all over too soon. He realizes that and tries his best to slow things down but his hips jerk and she tenses over him. She tightens around him just to the point of pain and he's gone. Her screams seem far away, joined by an animalistic howl that he realizes is his own.

 

*

 

JC comes out of the bathroom, towel around his waist and stops when he sees her standing in front of the mirror reapplying her makeup. He takes note of the gentle sweeps of powder, the flick of her wrist as she applies mascara. She smacks her lips after slathering on what she once explained was lip stain, not lipstick. It took nearly an act of God to clean it off, she'd explained with a laugh. She catches him watching and gives him a smile, sweeping lip gloss over her lips before sitting on the edge of the bed to roll her stockings back up her legs.

 

He doesn't even remember her wearing them.

 

"Same time next week?" he asks softly, glancing around the room to see that she's laid his clothes on the bed neatly. She doesn't understand but knows how he hates wrinkles. He picks up his wallet from the bedside table.

 

"Absolutely. " She's brushing her hair now and he's momentarily transfixed at the healthy sheen of the strands that have never seen chemicals.

 

He plucks out the usual amount and, hesitating, decides to add more. The bills are still crisp from his trip to the bank that morning and he huffs, annoyed that his subconscious always knows what he's going to do. He folds the bills and places them on the dresser next to her purse before going to get dressed.

 

He's stepping into his shoes when he hears the whisper of silk against skin. He looks up and feels his jaw drop. The dress is thin and hugs her curves in all the right places. A delicate blue that matches her eyes when she's about to come and makes him long to fuck her again. Slack-jawed, he stares as she slides her hands over her thighs to smooth the hem and is on his feet to help with the hidden zipper along her side before she can ask. "This," he whispers against her bare shoulder, "is gorgeous. New?"

 

"Bought it this afternoon. You like?" she asks, hands resting over his when they slide around her waist.

 

"You knew I would." His lips trail down her neck, inhaling the fresh application of perfume and his cock twitches to life when she sways in his arms.

 

"It's going to look so good bunched around my waist while you fuck me later," she suggests with a wicked grin. Patting his hands she reaches into her purse and plucks out the small velvet pouch. Once the brilliant diamond ring is in place she turns to face him, nuzzling his cheek as her arms slide around his neck. "Ready to hit the club for your birthday?"

 

He laughs and kisses her, lips tearing from hers as he turns her to face the mirror again. "Not just yet," he whispers, inching up the hem of her dress. She's gloriously naked beneath it save the stockings and black garter belt. His fingers slide over her, watching her reflection in the mirror as her face changes from amusement to surprise to arousal. Her hands brace against the reflective surface and she gasps, leaning back when one finger slides into her.

 

JC bites his lip, free hand reaching to unzip his fly. There's no tenderness this time. They're already running late so there's no time to undress and get her onto the bed. His finger pumps into her mercilessly until he feels her thighs begin to quake then he's leaning back, hands on her ass as he slowly pushes his cock along the length of her slit.

 

"Please, please, please, please," she begs, whining as he continues to tease. Then, suddenly, he slams into her and her head drops forward, body shaking. "Fuck, baby, hurry up!"

 

"You act like you haven't come at all," he mutters, watching as his cock disappears inside her. He wastes no time building a momentum of rapid thrusts.

 

"That was just a little one," she pants in disagreement, fingers curling against the mirror that wobbles with each thrust of his hips. "Baby, I need to fucking come!"

 

"Then fucking come," he growls, holding onto her ass tightly as he works. He growls as she takes him deeper. Wanting to drive her over the edge he loosens one hand and caresses one soft cheek before delivering a sharp smack. He grins when she cries out, the pain fueling her to rock her hips in the rhythm he's set. His palm meets her ass again and he feels her knees buckle. His free arm slides around her waist, tightening to keep her upright as he continues to spank her, palm stinging with each blow. "You gonna come, baby?"

 

"Oh my god," she gasps, hands falling to the top of the dresser when the mirror gives way and slides from its nail. Neither hear it fall to the floor and she closes her eyes tightly to ward away the tears of pleasure and pain. "I'm so close. So fucking close, baby!"

 

"Christ," he hisses, eyes riveted to the reddening handprint on her ass. He feels her hand slide over his arm and smirks, bringing his palm down sharply for one final blow. He catches her wrist just before her fingers reach between her legs, causing her to growl in frustration. "I got it," he assures between gritted teeth, clamping her hand against her lower abdomen. His other hand leaves the softness of her ass, reaching around to cup the slick fold. She whimpers and slumps against the dresser when his fingers part her. He can feel the prick of her fingernails in his wrist as he circles her clit with his thumb. His tongue skitters over his lips and his thumb stutters over her clit. "Like that?"

 

"That's it," she cries with renewed passion. His thumb begins to rub her clit vigorously and she squeals against the varnished wood. The hand not trapped against her body curls around the edge of the dresser and one foot lifts off the floor for leverage and the euphoria begins to swell. She yanks her arm free and grips the dresser with all her might, slamming backwards against him. "Yes!" she screams, fingers curling into the wood so forcefully a fingernail snaps. But she doesn't feel the pain, too far gone to even care.

 

"Fuck yes," he moans as the blazing heat of her increases to that of an inferno. His hips are working so fast that his dick is a blur and he begins to slap her slick folds with his fingers. "Fuck yeah,  baby," he growls, head falling back as the flames of ecstasy rip through his body. He can't hold back. He's right there, so close to coming that he can feel every muscle in his body begin to tense. "C'mon, goddamnit—"

 

She throws back her head and screams, incoherent syllables that are so loud her voice cracks. Entire body taut as she comes, she clamps around his dick, forcing him to stay buried within her. He gasps and she can barely feel him rocking against her for the needed stimulation as she slumps, spent, held up only by his gyrating hips.

 

JC feels and explosion of adrenaline rip from an untapped source and gives a throaty roar as he concentrated it all on his orgasm. He pushes into her as far as he can go, the strength of his final surge causing her to tumble against the dresser. His fingers grasp her inner thigh and her squeal of protest is lost as the blinding light takes over his vision. He comes violently, body jerking against her until he's weak. Collapsing over her he drops his hands to the dresser and gasps for breath.

 

"Goddamn," he breathes after several moments have passed and he can see straight enough to realize the mirror is no longer on the wall.

 

"Happy birthday," she whispers, nuzzling his jaw until he turns his head and she can offer a soft kiss. They part and she shivers, smoothing her dress down once more. It's wrinkled and she knows that everyone will know they had sex but she doesn't care. She pulls on her raincoat and gathers her purse, tucking the folded bills into her wallet.

 

They walk down the hall together, his arm around her waist and her head on his shoulder, each glowing with post-sex highs and love. She fixes his collar and he rubs away a bit of smeared mascara.

 

She leans into him for another kiss. "That certainly brought thirty-five in with a bang, baby."

 

"Here's to thirty-five more," he chuckles.

 

He wonders why they're always surprised by the quickie they always have just before leaving the room. Those last moments of raunchy fucking that more than once have resulted in a broken lamp or mirror. Maybe it's because they've been doing this for so long. For eighteen months they've slipped away twice a week to be alone. Away from her job as a prim and proper news anchor and his days of recording and producing. Their friends know only that for two nights a week he and his fiancée go out on a date.

 

He'll never forget the night she'd crawled into bed after staying on at the station to work the eleven o'clock news. She hated that their work was keeping them apart and she had the perfect idea of how to spice up their sex life. Which, he hated to admit, had become a little boring and predictable. After watching a story at work about high-end hookers she had been struck with brilliance. Why not pretend? Why not role play? Why not leave the comfort of their bedroom, where his cotton pajama pants always end up in a ball under the covers and her baggy t-shirt sometimes doesn't even come off?

 

Why not, indeed.

 

Despite the hours spent at the hotel he can't keep his hands off her when they reach the club. She's branded as his by the diamond on her finger but still he keeps her near, still fearing someone may slip in and tempt her way from his side. It happened once…

 

They dance, bodies pressed tight together and she whispers promises for when they get home. Hot words that have him looking forward to calling it a night. But she makes him stay longer than he intended, encouraging everyone to toast him. He grins and laughs through each one, each time praying that it's the last. Finally a cake is brought out and he suffers through a rowdy version of Happy Birthday.

 

As he blows out the candles he makes his wish. Her eyes meet his over the curling smoke as his friends raise their glasses and he knows she knows his wish. Someone comes forward to cut the cake for him and he sees the raincoat over her arm. His wish come true.

 

Please, let me the fuck out of here now.