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The Hotel [Reydan and Andnich123]

You see completely through me. I am glad that I have turned away, although the heat of the shower is almost too much to bear. My hands splay against the tile walls, head down in the flow, and your words come to me through that curtain of falling water. I feel your hands on my back, tracing the line of my spine, of my muscles, of the flow of my waist. But no lower. Not yet. The touch is gentle. Caressing. And, dare I say, loving. I close my eyes. Has it so quickly come to this?

'Honestly?' I say, as your voice trails away with that one brutal question hovering softly on the air. Will you forget me? 'Honestly...I could never forget you. Not after tonight.' I turn, suddenly, my hands on your waist. Our eyes meet. I hold you at arms length, grip tender on your pale skin, because I simply cannot bear to either push you away or draw you close. Can you sense the confusion? The hesitation in me?

'Is it surprising that we are two of a kind?' I say, my mouth twisted into a sad smile at the thought. 'Two little islanders out of their depth. Tied to spouses that.....' I can't finish it. Can't finish that thought. We haven't talked about our partners really. Why bring them up now? Am I starting to think about the longer term? The deeper? Longer meanings?

Suddenly, beneath our feet, the music begins to dip. The hubbub from the crowd is still active, but lower. The party is beginning to wind down.

My right hand comes up to your face, cupping your cheek as I lean in to kiss you. 'I can't forget you Kate. I can't' I whisper into your very mouth as we kiss. Tender, for once, rather than hungry. 'I don't know what tomorrow will bring. Or the next day. Or the next week or month or year. But I won't forget you because I can't forget you.' My hands drop back to your hips and the kiss becomes hungrier again. More needy. Consuming.

'I know we have little time' I whisper 'But I need you one last time. Need you Kate. Need you'.
 
Need. No one has ever needed me before. It feels strange, foreign, as if it’s not real. The sound of it resonates, heightening this dreamlike state you’ve put me in. Your touch, your words, your kiss, they all have my head in a whirl, but one thing grounds me. You need me.

Your kiss has grown more intense. The party beneath us may be winding down, ending our time together, but the mood in the shower between us is beginning anew. There is a depth to how much we need each other. That’s right. How much WE need each other. You were right not to want to bring our spouses into this. I certainly feel the same way. They have no place. I’m starting to feel as though I have no place with my spouse. To be with someone out of some sense of obligation is one thing. To be with someone out of a sense of need, a need that rivals the need to breathe, is another. On one hand I have someone I’m bound to because of a golden band and a vow, a vow that I no longer feel the same way about but am still bound by it nonetheless. On the other hand, I have you. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that circumstances have brought us together a lifetime too late. It’s not fair that the party is winding down pushing life back into our faces once more. A lot of things aren’t fair, but at least I have you.

I return the kiss, my own passions growing as the urgency of what time we have left weighs on me. ‘Not here,’ I think. ‘Not in the shower.’ I’ve seen you tender. I’ve seen you passionate. Whenever I came across an attractive man, I would often imagine him in various ways. Some were gentle. Some were a bit rougher when I took them to bed in my mind. With you, in this moment, I could not imagine a way I would want you. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you, quite the opposite really. It was because I had already my dream with you when we made love. You were my dream come true is so many ways, and all I knew was that I had to have you again. My lips part from yours’, but only in a need to kiss along your jaw line. I draw closer to you, heeding your guarded hold on me. Our bodies are close now. The water falling from the shower now mingles from my skin to yours’. I whisper in your ear, “Where. However you want me….I am yours’ Nicholas.” I can feel my arms slip around you, pulling you close, allowing my mind to fall into the memory of you in my room. We were on the bed, and you made me feel things I had never felt before. It’s a warm memory, warming me even more than the water beating down on us. I smile. You can’t see it, but it’s there. My hands trail down your back, not stopping where they once did, dipping down to your firm backside. “Do you….remember my room?” My grip tightens. “Do you remember....what you….did with me….there,” I ask, feeling my hands kneading your flesh. “Do you want….I want that….again….Nicholas….but not the same.” I realize my words may sound confusing to you. Will you understand?
 
When your mouth leaves mine I am panting, a little bit, my chest heaving against your slick body. The heat of the water has gone to my head, the room spinning ever so slightly, and for once I am putty in your hands. Even as you lean in, whispering that you are mine, your intensely feminine skin soft and sensitive against my own, I feel myself give in to you. Surrender to your touch as your hands, nimble fingers stroking and sliding, glide down to my rear and squeeze. I let out a rough exhale, feeling your fingers tighten and hold the flesh as we are pressed together.

Again but not the same.

Again but not the same.

I am slightly nervous, a little on edge as you and I leave the hot water of the shower, finally turning the faucet off and stepping down onto the expensive tiles of the hotel bathroom below. I have explored your body, spread you open and tasted and felt every inch of you, and now...now you want to do the same to me. But can I handle that? My heart thumps in my chest, suddenly nervous as we step, hand in hand, towards the inviting softness of the bed. One of your hands is still on my rear, almost possessive in its hold, and I feel almost giddy. I may have pushed you to your limits, probed your hot little rear until your cries rung out around the hotel room before, but now? I have never done anything like this before, not with any woman, and I am almost teenaged in my fumbling inexperience.

Unsure of exactly what to do, I sit on the bed, spreading my legs so that you can stand between them. You are above me, standing whilst I sit, and my arms wrap around you. The touch is reassuring, human and warm and intimate, and I wonder again at just how quickly I have come to depend on that touch. The touch of a near-total stranger that I find somehow more comforting and reassuring than that of my wife. I relax, arms encircling that perfect waist, lips kissing your stomach.

'Take control' I breath into you, brave enough, and hard enough, to know that this little surrender is ok. That I will be ok in your hands. 'Take control'.
 
Inexperience. Experience. Neither matter in a situation like this. I'm certainly not being driven by either of them. It's a force far stronger leading the way, guiding me. It's one I've only felt recently, with you. It's old and familiar, though it has been lacking in my life. Love? No, surprisingly as that is. It's lust. Lust drives me, like a crazed being dependent on feasting on the very feelings I have when I'm with you. I can't help but wonder if you feel the same. Even if you don't, lust is certainly there for you as well. Otherwise, you would not have taken your seat on the bed and whispered your sweet surrender. Lust was guiding us both, and we were walking hand in hand down the path, following it's eternal flame.

I slip down to one knee, gracefully, never leaving eye contact. I couldn't bear to look away. There is no way of when the next time I will gaze into those mesmerizing eyes of yours' again. So I drink in every moment, every second, etching them into my mind further. Those eyes will be my comfort, my curse, just as every second we've spent together will be. The other knee finds the floor, sliding along the plush carpeting, threatening a slight burn. Good. A gentle reminder of you for days to come. Gently my fingers are on your knees. There is no need to part your legs further. You're already open to me in a sense. Instead I lean in, planting on soft kiss on your inner thigh. The other one follows suit. Each time my eyes return to yours', gaging your reaction. I want to know how every touch, every kiss, effects you. A shiver dances down my spine, lighting me up inside. You have that effect on me. Again my lips touch your skin, a bit....closer this time. I want to savor this, though I know time is not on my side. I'm almost of the mindset that I don't care. Let them walk in. Let them catch us. Then it would be in the open. Then the secret would be known. Another kiss, closer still. I can breathe in your scent. Intoxicating. Inviting. Another kiss to each thigh, and yet another still brings me forward, further into you. My fingertips glide up your thighs, gripping them gently. The hunger within is growing far too strong to revel in taking things slow. My head moves, bringing my lips so close. They brush against your manhood, teasingly almost in their efforts, as I close my eyes. The skin is soft and slightly moist. My tongue traces my lips, taking you in. Sweet. I can feel the hunger lunge within, and it will be denied no longer. My mouth takes the tip, only the tip. Pausing I breathe you in. It's a second that ticks away on the clock that I hold you there before taking more of you. While I certainly had other desires on my mind, I would not pass up the chance to taste you. Again, this could be my last time. A few movements, taking as much of you as my throat would allow, not wanting you to release, not yet, and then my lips slide free of your manhood.

I can't help but steal another look before my hungry mouth returns, this time paying attention to another part of your body. Licking, tasting, trying to take them both into my mouth at the same time, I feast on your sack, burying my nose against your body. What I want is so close, and yet I'll need to lean back against the bed before I can finally have what I seek. My body is crouched down, my rear resting on my heels. Panting, I pull back and make that precious, strong eye contact with you again. "Back," I whisper. "I need you..I need you..to lean..back," I struggle to say. "I..need you."
 
It is like you are passing an electric current, mild but intensely sensitive, over my body. A touch here, a touch there, your mouth, hot with passion, brushes against my sensitive skin and it is like a live wire. I shift a little, each time, almost cursing my inability to simply lie there. But then again...is that what you want? I think not. You want the reaction. You want the passion. You want to feel the effect you have on me because you know, just as certainly as I, that this could be the last ever time we do this.

I feel your lips move closer, your breath hot, my pulse racing. Your fingers replace your lips on my thighs, sliding up my toned legs, skin on skin soft and intensely arousing. I am almost braced for that which is to come, fingers twisting and tangling in the hotel bedsheets. Then your small mouth, wamr and wet, takes in my tip. I groan, low and aching, screwing up my fingers to avoid cumming there and then. I breath hard, getting myself under control, and grit my teeth. 'Holy hell' I hiss. You slide me, inch by inch, deeper and I practically melt before you. A groaning mass, propped up on weak elbows.

A wordless sad noise escapes my lips as you withdraw, leaving my shaft glistening in your spittle, but is almost immediately replaced by a deep growl as you nuzzle in against my sack. I groan, about to reach down to grip you head, to take control and fuck that mouth that promises so much pleasure, when our eyes meet. A whisper that means a thousand promises, like an Eastern dream, washes over my consciousness.

Slowly, tentatively, I lay back. Putting myself entirely at your mercy. Laid out in front of you. Ready.
 
You comply. With sweet submission and perfect trust, you recline back at my words. Your body moves in slow motion, coaxing the rustling sounds from the sheets. The bed doesn’t creak. It must be fairly new. It simply supports your body with ease. I hear the sounds, and I can feel the bed come to rest. You’re comfortable, resting back and awaiting my touch. You are not some play thing for my amusement or pleasure. There’s no way you could simply be that. No, you are so much more.

My lips move, taking you in as I did just moments before. There is no hesitation, no pause to prepare either one of us for the sensations that are about to come. This time I know. This time it is simply the beginning. I wanted to taste you, to feel you again, before I move further. My movements are quicker this time as my fingertips massage your thighs. I want to stop, to move further, but for a moment I’m almost trapped in my actions, unable to stop feeding your length down my throat. The skin, the texture, the scent that floods my senses is overpowering. My mind works to break free, to regain some sibilance of control. Control. That’s something we both have lost time and time again around each other.

My mouth pulls free of you. Wanting more my tongue slides along the underside of your shaft, not stopping as I reach your sack. It would be so easy to stop and pay attention here, but this is not where I want to shower you with affection. My tongue delves lowers, stopping at your entrance. You showed me how sensitive, how incredible it felt to be touched here. Now it was my turn. At first I only apply light pressure, pressing easily against the resistance. My eyes flicker up, watching your body, reading you. Light pressure begins to grow stronger. The taboo nature of what I’m doing doesn’t bother me. Before this night, the very thought of doing what I’m doing seemed disgusting, but you have shown me that with the right person, there is only beauty in pleasuring one another. I grip your thighs, wanting more as I push my tongue in deeper. I’m inside, just barely, but I’m inside….for a moment. Withdrawing my tongue swirls around the entrance, coating you, making sure I do not cause you any pain. As I push back once more, slowly sliding inside of you, my hand reaches for your manhood, gripping you, starting a slow rhythm. You’re mine as I continue; working my body in this rhythm I set. I could have kept my tongue there, fucking your ass, but I wanted you to feel more. So I suckle my middle finger from my other hand and slowly press it to you. My eyes look up, once more reading you. Thinking you’re okay, thinking you’re enjoying this, I proceed further, feeling your warmth engulf my finger as it disappears inside you. Crazed with lust, my mouth lunges for your sack, suckling, drawing them into my mouth. All of me had to be touching, tasting, you. I am driven far further than I ever thought possible. My body is going crazy with sensations despite not being the one touched. I ached, wanting release, and shocked by how close I am. There is no doubt in my mind that if you cum, so too shall I.
 
I am almost trembling. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to reach down and push you away, pull myself back from the brink of - whatever this is. I am not good with new things, not good either with the loss of control, but somehow you manage to put me at ease. Or at ease enough for you to work your carnal magic on my body.

And magic it is. I feel you take my length down your throat, your hot wet mouth sucking me down, and I groan. It seems an endless well of ecstasy, but just as I think that you pull back. I hear you gasp a little for air, feel the cool waft of air on my spittle-soaked cock, and close my eyes. This is too much. Far too much. I can feel my balls throb, desperate for release. You run your hot, nimble, little tongue along the underside of my shaft and my cock twitches dangerously. I almost blow my load then and there, groaning again, but manage some modicum of self-control. The sheet balls in my fists as I concentrate.

You move down, more and more slowly, but then I feel it. The tongue on my anus. Circling, teasing, and as my eyes go wide I cannot hold back. My hips begin, ever-so-slightly, to push my sweet spots against your face. And then you bring in the finger. I gasp, writhing on the bed under your adventurous ministrations, and feel you stretch me out. I look down, perhaps a mistake, and see your eyes wide with lust. You are almost in a trance and it jangles the nerves within me. I see you lunge for my ballsack, hot mouth almost hungry with sexual need, and it is too much.

'Ahhhhhhhhhhhh'. It is more of a shout, wordless and inarticulate. Pure passion unleashed. Release in its sexual form. My aching shaft erupts like a fountain. I spray your arching back with my hot seed but, as you crouch between my legs, I also coat your face with my cum. I see stars, my body all a mess of nerves, and it is all I can do to try and meet your eyes again. To see if you, too, have cum. There is no use in talking to you - I have no words. Just passion. Just arousal.
 
It is delicious, your reaction. It’s perfect. I have seen you driven wild by the experience, and I have felt your release. Your entire body allowed that. The slight tremors, the sounds coming from your mouth were the sounds only someone in a state of bliss could make. I could have felt my own release in that moment, I could have reached between my own legs and brought on my own sweet release, but there was no drive for that. You were my only focus. Amid the haze of lust that had engulfed me, you were my only focus.

I felt your release. It was bittersweet. It served as a reminder in a sense that time was marching on, forward, leaving us and these moments behind. A cruel reality we both would face, but not now. No that was a demon we would leave at the door, for now. Instead I made the choice to revel in your release, feeling your cum paint my quivering body. I could have enjoyed it deep inside of me or down my throat, but this way my body served as your canvas. Still I wanted to taste, to have you still. My finger was still inside of you, feeling your body clamp down, tightening around me, as my tongue licked along your shaft. That sweet, sweet taste that is you hit every tastebud, exploding along my pallet. There were not words, and there never would be to describe it. My finger swirled slightly, stretching you still, playing with you, teasing you as I continued, lick after lick, to taste you, to clean, until finally I took the tip into my mouth. Your eyes had been on me, and I knew you were searching for something. I had not found my release, but that wasn’t my intent this time. No, my intent was to pleasure you, and I held every intention of doing so until you couldn’t move from exhaustion. So if I managed to coax another load from your cock, then so be it. I would swallow it down and continue to be there for you for as long as time would allow.
 
There is nothing between us in this moment. I am connected to you, pulse beating with yours, lying completely prone and exposed before you. More vulnerable than I have ever been with anyone in my entire life up till now. I can feel your finger move inside me, just slightly, as you adjust. I breathe out, ragged and gasping, as you continue to tease me with your tongue.

But I know you have not found release yet. That your body is still humming with desire. And I know, too, that you will not act on those feelings. That you will, as you are currently, continue trying to please me. Continue taking my shaft deep in your warm throat, licking and tasting me as you withdraw. Our eyes meet. Unspoken understanding passing between us.

I break the connection, sitting up, then standing, towering above you as you look up from your knees. Wordlessly I catch you by the arms and bring you up to me, moving you like a partner in an intricate and intense dance. We end up sitting against each other, your back to my chest, your legs between my spread ones. My back is against the hardwood of the bedstead, a sharp contrast to the soft warm skin of your body. My hand moves to your sex, fingers probing and spreading, before beginning to plunge into you. My mouth is on your neck, my body grinding softly against yours from behind in an undulating rhythm. My other hand holds one of your wrists like a vice, keeping you from touching my hand as it begins to roughly tease your sex, thumb rubbing your clit as two fingers sink deep into your honeyed hole. I will bring you to orgasm after orgasm, I have decided, as my parting gift. Leave you on such a high that you will remember me for days. For I will certainly not forget you.
 
Like lightening, the connection is severed. Surprise and shock race through my body, unsure if I have done something to displease you. You stand, and though I want to rise to meet you, I can’t. There is something so enticing about having you there, your frame intimidating over me, and my position so subservient. Had it not been for you, I would have remained there, unable to move and soaking in the feeling.

Still you bring me to my feet, and as powerful as the feeling of being at your feet was, this is far stronger. Even without words, we move together as one, our feet guided by the emotions between us. Never before has such a connection been felt like this.

I come to rest against your body, not sure of what is about to happen. It doesn’t matter. Your strong frame, the bed beneath us, and the charged feelings surging through the room mix for an incredible emotion. Your hand moves, touching my body, exciting me as if it were the first time your fingers had touched my flesh, as if it were the first time you had explored me. My hand reaches for yours’, not sure if I am able to withstand such an intense release as I know it will be. Already my feelings are churning, building up, my muscles screaming, burning, tightening as I writhed against you, pushing against your body. My hips making circles, meeting your movements. The sounds coming from my mouth are gasps laced with words here and there. “Please..close..oh dear.” Broken, raspy, jagged words dripping with lust and desire are all I can manage. Your grip against my wrist is firm. It only adds to the sensations. Just as your frame dominating over my own before left me with feelings that claimed me, rendering me unable to move on my own, so too did your grip. I couldn’t fight against it. There were no words of protest as I felt my climbing higher and higher. With every passing second, every manipulation you showered my body with, I was getting closer and closer. Labored breathing gave way to cries of ecstasy as my body could take it no longer. I could feel myself wet, coating your fingers. Your lips were on my neck as my tongue traced over my bottom lip. “Incredible,” I whisper.
 
I hear you whisper, feel the climax claim your body. Pressed up against me, I can feel it race up and down you. A shiver that rolls into a spasm, legs twitching and heart racing. I can almost feel your pulse banging and pounding. Almost taste it as my lips press hungrily against your neck. You taste like nothing else. I am addicted to you. I close my eyes and breath in the smell of your skin as you sob out your pleasure and my fingers become slick with your juices.

But I don't stop. Even as you whisper out your pleasure I am still pushing you. My digits are rougher now, the initial probbing giving way to a full invasion. Force replaces subtlety. I've never liked the term 'finger-banging' but that is what is happening now. I am pounding your sex, stretching your delicate hole, thumb rubbing a rough tattoo on your clitoris. Your juices make it easier, my fingers now slipping deeper and deeper, faster and faster. I will bring you to climax after climax until....

...but no. The sensations are too much. You soft movements and gentle caresses too intense. I find my hands lifting you, urging your hips up, before my swollen shaft replaces my fingers inside of you. Deep inside of you. We are still sitting against the headboard, you pressed back against me, but now you are in my lap and I am fucking you from behind. 'Oh God Kate oh God oh God' I gasp out, as if your name is a holy mantra for me. Maybe it is.

My phone buzzes. Buzzes with that awful, harsh, physical tapping as it vibrates on the counter. I know who it is, without looking, without seeing. I know without thinking. It is my wife. She is calling time on us. Forever. We will leave tomorrow and I will never see you again. A sudden, awful, thought takes me. I reach out, hand snatching up the phone and, as it continues to vibrate, as I continue to slid my shaft deep into your sodden sex, I press the vibrating phone to your clitoris. Even as I fuck you, feeling my own climax boiling up within me, I stimulate you with the shuddering device, panting out your name again and again.
 
You don’t stop. Perhaps that’s something I’ve come to realize rather quickly in the time we’ve known each other. You keep going. My body has given in to you, screamed it’s pleasure, literally, painted the perfect scene for a seductive, lustful evening, and still you persist. Your movements are almost frenzied now, as if you can’t feel enough of me, touch me enough, or as if you can’t accomplish a goal you clearly already have. It’s insistent, the way you move, it addictive. You are addictive. There is no way I will be able to take much more of this without spilling into another orgasm. Being with you brings me to that edge, that cliff, and I dangle there, ready to release at any moment. You do that to me, over and over again, and now your pushing me.

The wet sounds grow louder, only rivaled by my own groans. I want to squirm, to wiggle, but my legs are not strong enough. Still I feel my body moving, and I know it’s not from any will from me. Your hands, your strength, are moving me, guiding me. Until I feel you, throbbing, consuming me, I wasn’t sure why. Honestly it didn’t matter. You were there. That’s all that mattered.

You filled me, completely, making the already intense feeling raping my body even stronger. I wanted to scream to you, to declare that I wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. Again I would become jelly in your grasp, melting, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t for lack of the ability to speak. It was your voice. I heard it, slicing through the night. There was such a need there, almost a plea that told me you needed me as much as I needed you. The next thing I knew, I felt it, the alarming and yet strong vibration against my already stimulated body. It was enough. Any strength I had began to drain, leaving my body through tensed muscles. I felt my head rest back against your body as I whispered, “Oh….yes.” It was soft, strikingly so against the rush of my climax. Again you had brought me here, taking me on a powerful journey. My legs ached and trembled as my muscles held them in place. I could feel the rush of cool wash over my sweat painted body. There was a scent in the air, one I was becoming accustomed to because of you. Sex. Lust. Release. I smiled against you, wanting to feel you fill me, not sure if my body could handle another release of my own. Still, I wanted to find out.
 
There is the warm flood of release. Yours. Wet, hot, gasping and writhing, aching and trembling. I watch your legs shift and spasm on the bed before me, your back arching against my chest, and your feet twist and twirl in the already messed-up bedding. Long and delicate, your beautiful legs shift in erratic rhythm as pleasure claims you. My release is not far behind. Thick and heavy, a groaning, gasping, release as my hands clench on your hips, fingers tight on your supple flesh, thick shaft swelling and shuddering as it errupts within your sex. The phone lies discarded on the bed, my wife's face still flashing as she rings again, the screen spattered with droplets of your arousal.

The phone.

The phone.

It lies there, dark now, its glassy screen seemingly a portal back to my mundane life before. Back to yours, as well. Beckoning. Demanding. Even though it is silent now I can feel its terrible call. A death knell on our time together.

'Kate'. My voice is husky and deep but also hoarse. Emotion and exertion having taken their toll. 'Kate'. I shift, slightly, exhausted bodies moving together and we sort of half tumble onto our sides. We end up face to face on the bed, our noses brushing together, lying side by side. I haven't noticed until now, but your nose is a sweet little thing, long and straight but lightly freckled and the perfect complement to your delicate face. I stare at you, drinking you in, etching you into my memory. As if I have to. You are already imprinted there, and will be for all time, I have no doubt.

I toy with the idea of being cruel to you. Leaving like this is nothing or, worst still, perhaps making some clumsy attempt to pay you or ensure your silence. Just to shatter your illusion of me. Would it be kinder, in the long run, to mar your memory of our time together? To spare you the endless longing that I know awaits me? But it is no more than a fleeting thought. I can't do it. Can't and won't. You are just too special to me.

'Kate' I rasp again, our noses nuzzling together. 'Kate I have to go. We...this...' A deep breath. 'It has to end now'.
 
We lay there together. Those words come, not as a surprise, not as a welcome song you're lips are granting me, but as a harsh, cruel truth that I knew would be spoken at one point. That point has come, with all the energy and emotions as our own orgasms. Just like us, there was no stopping it, no denying it, and certainly no hiding from it. Would we even if we could? Our lives were clearly missing something, something we found in each other. Something that was warm and kind and it fulfilled us in ways our spouses couldn't. No. In ways our spouses had forgotten. We reminded each other of that.

"I know," I whisper to you. Though I hadn't seen who the call was, I knew. She was the only one who could bring you to say those words, just as he would be the only man who could bring me to say them. They held so much power over us despite the fact they were not even present. Their reach extended past the physical. Yours' did as well. Though we would part ways in a matter of minutes, I knew I would feel your touch always.

I wanted to speak to you, to steal one last kiss, but it would be torture. It would also tarnish my memory of you by shackling with one last memory of a bittersweet kiss shared with you. I didn't want that. I wanted my last memory of your touch to be heated, tender, brimming with all the passion we had. It was that desire that feed my movements. Slipping from the bed, as though my body were silk sheets, I didn't speak. My clothes are found. There is no attempt at being presentable. Material is askew, wrinkled. I wouldn't be surprised if it was torn or missing a button or two. Lacy undergarments are stashed inside my purse quickly. The logical thought of putting them back on never occurred. Even speaking to you as I left seemed as though it would put a stain on our time together, but I wanted to. You deserved that much. We deserved that much. I couldn't bring myself to look at you. The image of you lying next to me, our noses brushing against one another, was the last image of you I wanted. "I'll never forget..you..Nicholas. Never." With those I crossed the threshold sealing an end to our time and opening the door back to my ordinary life.

Quickly I made my way back to my own room. It still stood empty. He had not made his way back yet. Still schmoozing people he barely knew for things that were nowhere near as important as his own marriage. Your image keeps flooding my mind. I can still smell you on my skin. My own arousal is thick and heavy. I have to do something. A shower. Yes. A shower. I shed my clothing and make my way towards the shower. The water, so warm and inviting, stirs more memories of you. I guess there would be triggers for some time to come. I allow it cascade over my head and down my back. The bubbles from the soap wash away the last of your memory, swirling down the drain, and gone forever.

It would be a full year before we returned back to the same hotel. Everything still looked the same. A smile plastered across my lips. There were fond memories here, and I was certain we would make more. We. My husband kissed my forehead and told me the hotel staff would bring the bags up. He asked if I needed any help. I replied told him no. As he went towards the car to help the gentlemen there waiting, tiny fingers wrapped around my finger. I kissed them, inhaling the scent of baby powders. He was sleeping, peacefully. The drive had been long. Still he was a good baby, sleeping for most of it. "You're a good boy," I whispered. "Just like your daddy. Yeah, you are. You're such a sweetheart. My little Nicholas."
 
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