Hotels – An Encounter · Part 1 (1/2)
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Hotels, they all seem so similar. Hyatt, Sheraton, Holiday Inn, Hilton, all with the gentle piped music in the public areas and the lifts. The sterile reception areas sitting on glossy marble floors. And there's the plush bar area. That inevitable place where people mingle in subdued lighting. The bored reps at just another hotel stop over, the conference attendees enjoying loud and inconsequential chatter, the occasional lady of the night looking for business. The couple so closely entwined their relationship must be illicit, but oh what joy they exude.
Slowly they thin out leaving just the hard core drinkers or the really lonely reluctant to face an empty bedroom before exhaustion drives them to sleep. Aside from a few bland individuals there's two that seem to stand out. She is really ****ed off tonight. He was supposed to be here with her for a very special night. "I will book the room" he had said and all she got was a text at 22:38, "Sorry I can't make it – wife came home. Make it up to you sometime". She stares into the tropical fish tank that runs behind the whole length of the bar. Beautifully coloured fish glide amongst the gentle purple back-lighting.
She feels like a fish tonight, beautifully adorned but confined at the same time. She ponders her life. Yes the fish tank is like her life. A busy place lots to do and see, frequent encounters with co-occupants but all apparently going about their individual business with no real interaction. She is sure there must be a fuller richer life waiting. Her stare loses focus on the tank and she becomes aware of a distant reflection in the glass. He's another sad rep, typing away at his laptop, oblivious to the world around him. He can even reach out and pick up his drink while still working at the keyboard and looking at the screen. Good sense of kinaesthetics then.
Her mind wanders aimlessly to wonder what he working on. A bid for business, working out his expenses, writing home, writing to the girlfriend, maybe emailing the USA as they wake up. Who cares anyway. She needs to make a decision. Book a room for the night or face the long drive home to an empty house. Logic speaks from within to remind her she's has too many glasses of wine to drive. Back to the fish tank awaiting inspiration. The reflection has gone and she's jolted to the present as the reflection is beside her ordering a drink, laptop in hand.
Logic does not prevail as she speaks without intending to, "Your work is finished for the night then?" He looks puzzled for a moment but she casts her eye to the laptop and he replies, "Oh, yes. But that wasn't work it was my passion and hobby. I'm really not one of those sad individuals that believes work is the be all and end all in life". "Dare I ask what your passion and hobby is then?" He fixes his stare into her soul for several seconds that feels much longer. A stare that seems to be testing if this is a conversation to pursue. The stare is broken by the waiter returning with his drink. "On the tab please" he says.
And then, "Oh where's my manners, can I offer you a drink?" She declines. He turns to walk away, but stops to reply to her question. " I think my hobby is a little unusual and you might be surprised if I told you. But it isn't model railways". "I love puzzles", she says. "So let me guess; championship chess played over the Internet maybe". He fixes that piercing stare again and holds eye contact. "No". A monosyllabic answer that beckons her to guess again. Somehow breaking away from his hypnotic eye contact seems difficult as her brain searches for another clue. His clothes reveal little. Expensive shirt and trousers but no suit jacket. Rolex watch. No clues there then.
The silence becomes uneasy for her but he seems resolute in waiting for a reply, like a good interrogator using the silence to elicit information. "Private investor playing the stock market", she offers. "Not even close, but if you are prepared to be shocked I will show you as no-one else is around, if you want to know" he says. Intrigued and with a what-the-hell attitude she says "OK shock me!" He flips open the laptop waits a few seconds and types away. "Sure you want to know my passion and hobby?" "Why not?" she says.
He turns the lap top around so she can see the screen and is confronted with the scene of a woman bound in ropes, blindfolded, suspended from above and being beaten with a riding crop. At the same instant he says, "I run bondage tutorials and workshops" and closes the laptop. The exposure was as short as a subliminal screen shot but the impression on her was immediate. She looks up into his eyes again and feels she is being scanned for a reaction and feedback. The interrogator's silence pervades again. She is drawn irresistibly into a response. Should she fake shock, horror, revulsion, or reveal the rush of excitement she felt. Before she can answer he speaks.
Slowly, deliberately, assertively. "Some people are totally turned off by the thought of bondage, but others crave the confinement and blissful release from reality that it can bring". "I have watched the body language of many people and you don't need words to express your reaction". He continues, "Your pupils dilated, which could be shock or excitement, but the way you shifted your body position invited the same treatment". How the hell can he say that, and be right too! "So what brings you here tonight? He asks. Her short answer is simply, "Meeting a friend who hasn't shown up".
"Sorry to hear that", then he adds, "So are you setting off home soon or do you have a room here?" Without thinking through the possible consequences she says, "Neither, too much to drink to risk driving and no room booked". Damn, she realises that makes me seem vulnerable, she could have been more evasive or lied. He stares at her for a while before saying, "You're in something of a predicament then." Attempting to recover from her faux-pas, "My car is in the car park and has a good heater so I can bed down there". He cautions her, "But if the police patrol the car park and find you with the engine running and you're over the limit you risk your licence even if you didn't plan to drive".
With a sigh, "Good point, I need a plan B then". His previously piercing look tuns to one of concern, followed by, "I have a double room but would not presume to offer you a bed there. Come to reception and I will book you a single room for the night". Surprised and slightly offended that she seems incapable of looking after herself she asks, "Why would you do that? And anyway I could book a room for myself." He says, "I'm sure you could book your own room but you haven't, and I can't leave a pretty lady exposed to the evils of the night. So regard it as my good deed for the day.
Now don't argue, come with me and let's get you sorted." The drink in her system has made the world too fuzzy to think straight. But within 15 minutes she is installed in a room of her own and he is bidding her goodnight. That's not the outcome she had expected. "Before you go, will you tell me your room number she asks?" Recognising that in her state of mind she may not remember much, he writes his room's phone number on the notepad at the bedside and hands it to her. "Sleep well" he says as he leaves and closes the door. Startled by the alarm clock at the side of the bed going off she is brought from sleep to a confused alertness. Where is she. How did she get her.
The clock shows 03:30 am. Mental clarity brings it all clearly back. Some idiot of a previous occupant in the room must have needed an early flight to set an alarm for 03:30 or they had a cruel sense of humour. A bathroom visit and a quick wash of her face and she is fully functioning. She doesn't even know this man's name, only a phone number for his room. Will he be checked out in the morning? What time will he have breakfast so she can thank him? Should she forget the incident, have a good sleep and just leave in the morning? After pondering the options she picks up the phone and calls his room. After a short delay he answers the phone, why she should be startled she's not sure.
He is hardly likely to have checked out in the middle of the night. After several "hello's" on his part she gathers her thoughts and tells him she just wanted to say thank you. "You're welcome", he says in comforting but assured tones. "May I come and see you?" – the words leave her lips almost involuntarily and she feels an instant pang of regret at their utterance. There's a pause as he considers her request, "Yes of course you may, but be prepared for some consequences if you do – I'm on the top floor penthouse suite". "What room number" she enquires. "My dear, it is just the top floor, all of it.
If you decide to come press the "P" button in the lift above the 23rd floor and I will buzz you in when I see you on the camera". Now it's his turn to feel anticipation and a quickening pulse. He acquiesced to her request and added the threat of consequences, so perhaps she will have second thoughts about coming. Or maybe the unknown threat of consequences will be like a light to moth at night. Minutes pass and the security camera's motion detector alarm sounds. So she came (perhaps that won't be the only time tonight he thinks). Outside the lift she is facing a single door, the buzz indicates the lock has opened and she pushes the door open. The vista that greets her eyes is impressive.
High above the city landscape it twinkles like stars. And the room is expansive. Several leather couches, two wide screen TVs, an extensive open bar, an aquarium and obviously side rooms too. She catches a glimpse of his reflection in the panoramic windows of the apartment and turns. He looks as fresh as ever as though he has just had a good night's sleep. He must have slept otherwise why have a dressing gown on? "May I take your dressing gown?" he asks her. Clutching it tighter she declines as it is all she put on to get to him. "Very well he replies, maybe it will come off later with or without your permission". She feels a blush of excitement and hopes he hasn't noticed.
She wonders what will unfold next – conversation, the offer of a drink, a rush to the bedroom, or…." Her thoughts are interrupted when he says, "Come with me I have something to show you". As he leads the way across the lounge he takes off the cord of his dressing gown. Corny line of chat he 's using she thinks as a way of saying check out my body. He stops at a door and takes her wrist. Not for a caress, but to tie the dressing gown cord around it. Then her leads her through the door to the en-suite gym! Again this offers a windowed vista looking on the city below.
Without either of them speaking he leads her to a weight lifting exercise frame, pulls down one of the machines hand bars and ties her wrist to it. He reaches down to her dressing gown, removes its cord and repeats the process with her other wrist. Thankful that there's no weights on the machine and she tests she can at least move her arms a little. But the movement loosens the last tuck of her dressing gown and if flows open. Finally he speaks. "So now I have you at my mercy, what shall I do with you? Or more to the point what would you wish me to do to you I wonder?
Let's proceed and explore what you find exciting and what your limits are." He caresses her legs tenderly, glides his hands upwards and towards the inside of her thighs. She closes her legs involuntarily. Unfazed he changes direction and slides his hands around and over her backside before moving over her waist and up to her breasts. Here he pauses. Just pauses, motionless with the slightest of pressure for what seems minutes. Eye to eye they look into each other and without any hint of what's to come he applies a gripping pressure to each tit that takes her breath away with its speed of application and intensity.
Without releasing the pressure he pulls her breasts apart, then together, and twists as though removing stubborn tops from glass jars. She reacts. She breathes deeper. She winces, but no sound passes her lips. "So you are no stranger to some physical pain", he observes. "But we can't have you closing your legs again. He leaves the gym only to return with two more dressing gown cords. The intention is obvious. Within a couple of minutes each of her ankles is secured to the machine's steel frame holding her legs and thighs wide apart. Deliciously exposed for his attention she thinks. "Now to apply some tension to your body", he says.
Hotels – An Encounter · Part 1 (1/2)
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