"Fuck." David snatches my glass and gulps it down. "Fuck."

Even if I did figure out what it meant, it wouldn't change anything. This time it's up to me to make a decision after he's already made his. Ultimately, one must release their grip. I interrupt the brief embrace by turning around and looking around the room.

Many people are looking in our direction. It's obvious that not all of them are directed at me personally. David has a rugged, powerful good looks. It's not just his good looks; it's also the way he carries himself, as if he were the master of every space he enters. At first I believed I was the only one who felt that way, but his past few birthdays have shown me I was mistaken. A lot of eyes are drawn to David as soon as he walks through the door.

That includes everyone here today.

A stunning middle-aged lady is sitting at a table in the nook, sipping a glass of white wine. Her dark, wavy hair complements the sophistication of her clothing and jewels. Moreover, she is looking at David with an intensity that causes me to flush.

Perhaps none of us will go home tonight, I mutter to myself. There's none justification to have any envy. Despite what my imagination may conjure, I have no more right to this guy than he has to me. We're just two individuals going at high speed through life who were unexpectedly thrust into a collision path.

"Anna." His hand tightens around my thigh, and he spins me around so that my knees are against his. The man examines my countenance. "You want me to respond, and you know it."

And I do mean "just a bit," when I say that. Even though I am far from flawless, I do my best to always tell the truth. Commonly or frequently. Despite what most people think, I am able to accept "no" as an answer. Your lack of interest means we can go on. The End.

His eyes wander down to my lips. It was "so easy"

True, it's as simple as that. David" His very name makes me feel guilty. You keep insisting that you aren't curious. So far, I've been making an effort to uphold that. I don't see why we're still debating.

You have no idea the consequences of your actions.

Unnatural excitement surges through me. "Don't I?" When I get a whiff of the beard oil he uses, I lean in close and almost whimper. Truly, those are cloves you smell. The cold makes me shudder. There's no way I could be considered innocent.

It's not news to me. In an effort to lower his voice, he. To touch you would make me the lowest kind of a bastard.

I won't even try to pretend that I came here tonight with the noblest of motives, to make a big deal out of celebrating my birthday at the stroke of midnight. Like usual, I anticipated David's arrival to save me. In my heart, I felt we were meant for one other. The feeling right now is that we are on the verge of something very significant. A one strong prod is all it takes to push us over the edge. It would mean a lot to me if you touched me with more than your hands.

He curses. The words "You don't know what you're asking for" are repeated by David.

Raise my glass high, and I savor every last drop. To those who aren't curious: "That's okay. There was no foul play, thus there was no damage done. There's no way I'm going to lose sleep over this. Liar. However, you must not pretend that you are acting in my best interest. I'm a grown up now; I can choose for myself.

"Anna." He lets out a long breath and turns his gaze away. "Look, I dunno if you've got some white knight fantasy or anything going on in your brain, but that's not me. You won't find me tucking you into a rose-filled bed and giving you a passionate kiss.

It's a godsend, for sure. For my part, I'd be at a loss as to what to do with anything like that. I don't need a rescuer, no matter what he believes. I snort. "Adorable wording."

I mean what I say.

"So am I." A glass was put down by me. "David, we may not know each other well when it comes to all the dull small facts you pick up on the first three dates, but we know each other." I lean forward till we're kissably near. "If you give it some thought, you'll see that I'd eat a white knight for breakfast." My breath becomes caught in my throat when I meet his eyes. "Just as I am confident in your ability to deal with every challenge I provide you with."

"Anna."

Please wait for me to finish. I take a deep, quaking breath in. But that's irrelevant," he said.

As I talked, David seemed to hold his breath the whole time. He takes the slightest step forward, bringing us closer together. For example: "What's the big deal, Anna?"

Saying my name is like having his fingers go down my spine. I make an effort to grin but it just doesn't come out right. The fact that I trust you is all that really counts. And I feel secure under your care.

He lets out a low, angry slur. Saying, "That's not right."

"I know." I had no intention of being honest. Not with David or the plans I have for tonight. Even more so now that I know he wants me and is only restrained by a moral system I abhor. I look him in the eye and lean back slightly to issue a subtle challenge.

I can't go too far before he moves. David puts his hands behind my neck and holds me still. It's not a harsh hold, but it gives me the creeps just the same. As his eyes heat up, he slides his thumb gently down the side of my neck. If I may ask, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes." There is no doubt. That's why I won't waste time with doubt. This evening seems like the culmination of six years of planning. All signs point to this happening eventually.

To ask, "What is your room number?"

Having to deal with such a realistic and useful inquiry throws me for a loop. Eyes flicker. The question "Right now?"

David looks me over while running his hand down my neck. Allow me to explain how things will unfold. If it's ok to you, then we'll proceed. If not, I'll get you in a taxi and make sure you get home okay.

I can hardly take a breath at this point. "Okay."

"No bluffing, Anna. You can't fuck other people or back out if you decide this isn't for you. Say you will"

I get a kick out of teasing him, but I want this more than I want to seem like a spoiled brat. As a result, I can only choose one path forward. As I nod, the tips of his fingers gently graze against my flesh, and the sensation is excruciating. "Okay. Certainly, that's my word."

I feel the tingle of expectation as his lips curl. David draws in closer and softens his tone. If you have a spare key, you're going to hand it to me and enter that room. Put away that red dress, shut your eyes, and wait for me by bending over the bed.

There's a lick of my lips there. It seems like the temperature in here has increased by twenty degrees in the last few seconds. Is it true that this is happening? One could ask, "And then?"

As soon as we're alone, I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want to your tight little body. His grip on my neck tightens ever so little. Tell me "yellow" if I should ease up on the gas, and "red" if I should come to a complete halt.

The space around me appears to shrink. As the heat rises, I feel a tightness throughout my body. "It's a safe term." Yes, of course I am acquainted with them. I've participated in my fair share of risky sex games, but I learned pretty early that kink requires more exposure than I'm comfortable with and is best saved for exceptional partners or rare occasions.

These descriptions apply to tonight.

You confided in me that you felt comfortable here. That won't alter no matter what the future holds. To this day, he still has my attention. The extent to which this goes depends entirely on you.

I feel like laughing till I cry from the sheer joy of it. He won't be grateful, and he may even take my response the wrong way. How far does this go, exactly? As far as it goes, I want it to be successful. What I really want is for that dashing mind of his to be a virtual dream factory. Everything vile, every sleazy particular. "Give me anything," There's a lick of my lips there. "Even I have my own wild imagination."

His eyes wander to my grin. You promised, "Tell them to me tonight."

The demand sends a chill down my spine, and the intensity of his stare just makes things worse. When I say "I will," I scarcely sound like myself. Certainly, that's my word."

That's the number of the room you're staying in.

I just recite it off the top of my head. I reach into my purse and, hands trembling, deliver him the extra hotel key. He gently squeezes my neck and lets go. "Go."

I go.

Keeping my gait slow and steady as I leave the hotel bar requires more work than I could have imagined. David's eyes are always onto me; they are dark and full of hope.

That is indeed what is occurring.

In fact, that is currently occurring at this time.

I hold it together until the elevator doors close behind me. When this happens, I lean against the wall and let out a deep, ragged breath. For emphasis: "Holy crap. Wow, that's incredible. I thought there was a good chance David would reject me. Since the night we met, he has maintained such a cautious distance from us...

Striking me with pain that is both numbing and all too familiar. Thirty percent of my life has passed since my parents passed away. Even more so. Even now, it aches. The anguish isn't as intense as it once was, and it no longer sends me into a panic attack whenever I have a fleeting memory of them.

Depression seems to have no upper bounds.

At least now I can safely reach back and touch the happy moments. There was a time when even thinking about them brought me nothing but pain. I was wondering whether David ever remembers my dad. We haven't really discussed this before, and he's gone through a similar tragedy. No one can compare a friend to a parent, but that doesn't mean his feelings of loss are any less real than mine.

I push off the wall and allow my momentum take me out into the corridor as the elevator doors silently glide open. The past is irrelevant at this time. In a few days, I'll be able to resume the never-ending process of dealing with my loss and improving my psychological and emotional well-being. The focus for tonight is on letting go. Putting all of your worries aside and relaxing.

As I make my way to the penthouse room across the corner, the outfit I'm wearing feels appallingly constrictive. A little grin forms on my face. On this night, with this guy, I need more than just a standard hotel room. I couldn't possibly be me if I didn't make a big deal out of this. I even made sure we'd have everything we needed to live out the dreams that have been bothering me for far too long by equipping the room with everything we'd need to do so.

I pause to take a glance around the motel room. I left my stuff up here earlier, but I didn't leave any lights on save for the one on the desk. The darkness casts a palpable sense of foreboding across the whole room.

Remove your dress.

Wait for me as I bend over the bed.

My momentum is increased by the ease with which I recall David's comments. I make my way slowly through the living area towards the spacious master bedroom. My New York apartment is somewhat larger. What drew me to this hotel, this bar, and this suite was the overwhelming grandeur. It's different from the celebrations I've thrown for my prior adult birthdays, but in a good way.

It's all over now; things will never be the same.

After giving the bedroom some thought, I go and switch on the lights on both ends of the bed. Just enough illumination to get about, but not enough to dispel the shadowy allure of forbidden activity. The fact that the night sky acts as a mirror on the ceiling-to-floor windows is icing on the cake. When I take a good look at myself, my spirit rises.

I have average looks, but my real talent is that I am quite photogenic. Without the trust fund, the gift would have allowed me to become financially self-sufficient. Combine that with the millions of people who follow me on social media and my terrible past, and advertisers will do just about anything to get their products in front of my audience.

Tonight, none of it really matters.

I couldn't give a crap what random people thought of my physique and appearance.

What David McGuire thinks is the only opinion that matters to me.

Getting out of my clothing is more of a hassle than I would like. Good thing I'm adaptable, since else I'd be doomed. I'm sweating and cursing my outfit selections by the time the fabric slithers to the floor around me. Is there still time for me to accomplish this? Defining with any precision is impossible.

I debate with myself for all of 0.1 seconds before deciding to hang up the outfit. If it is destroyed, I won't be able to replace it no matter how much money I have, since it was custom made by a lady who seldom ships outside of her small city.

For tonight, I took extra care in what I wore. My dark crimson designer balconette bra has the lightest lace and is meant to highlight rather than hide my breasts. The color of my stockings is the same as the color of my garter belt and pants, but I choose to wear nothing underneath. While the length of the dress meant that stockings weren't strictly necessary, I couldn't resist the opportunity to wear my favorite garter belt with my skin-baring bare legs on display. The outfit is finished off with the silver strappy shoes.

In my case, I always wear heels.

After a second of thought, I decide to keep my underwear on as well. They're bikini-cut, but see-through, with the same teasing intent as the bra. Despite my clothing, I may as well be exposed.

The bed is on the wall opposite the entrance, so the lights will cast a flattering glow about me when I bend down to make the sheets. Putting things off won't accomplish anything. For as long as it takes, I will do what David instructs and wait for him. Even if I have more than my share of pride, it serves no use right now.

I take a deep breath in and slowly lean down, bracing myself on my forearms on the bed. A few goose bumps have appeared on my exposed skin thanks to the air conditioner's playful taunts. No matter how much I'd want to hide my eyes, I'm a performer at heart. The mirror in the window beckons my attention, and I turn to face it.

My rear end is in the air thanks to my heels and the posture, and my body is a long line of invitation. My hair is a tumbling torrent over the black blanket, and my breasts are now fighting to escape the lace of the bra. My lower lip is bitten and my legs are split apart. David will be able to see that perspective, which I now lack.

Assuming he shows up, of course.

Not at this time; I have no room for negative thoughts or self-doubt. If he didn't mean to come after me, he wouldn't have put me up here. Exactly how did he put it?

To that tight little body of yours, I will do whatever the fuck I want.

Are we in for a hard ride with him? Oh, I really hope so. I'd want to get fucked, humiliated, and even even degraded a little. Everybody looks at me like I'm some kind of golden princess, destined to be treated with awe and respect.

In other words, David will not be hesitant. That much I know for sure.

However... In Case...

I sit up straight and reach for my handbag, where my phone is. Since he's going to have me wait in pain, it's only right that I share in it to some extent. Having thought it through, I laid flat on my back on the bed. The lighting provides a gentle, intimate picture of my body on my phone. I position it precisely, and turn the video on.

My nipples are plainly visible through the translucent red lace as the camera slowly pans over my lips and down my chest. Before continuing the journey south across my body, I snag the edge of the cloth and drag it down just enough to reveal the edge of one. It's a little uncomfortable, but I'm a pro and I take very steamy selfies.

I skim over the garters and draw a V with my fingers, framing my pussy, my slit plainly visible through the underwear, for a long minute before I finish the recording.

David's number has been on my phone for a long time, but the only time we've ever exchanged texts was just after I turned twenty-one and I cursed him out for interrupting my threesome. In retrospect, particularly after giving the texts just a cursory read, I can't help but grin a bit at the memories. The female going down on me had an unsuccessful orgasm, but it wasn't the only reason I was so angry.

The last message gives me a chuckle.

I said, "David, you owe me an orgasm for crying out loud.

Of course, he never got back to us. And after I sobered up the following day, I spent many hours thinking whether I should apologize or simply pretend it never happened.

This has me hoping beyond hope that my future holds not one but many orgasms. I give myself a little bottom lip bite and hit send on the video. After it has been confirmed as delivered, I turn off my phone, set it on the chair next to my handbag, and go back to where I was before.