"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.

It doesn't take long for anything to attract my ear. The beep of the keycard in the hotel room door. The gentle click as it opens. The heavy step that I know in my bones is familiar to me.

Here we have David.

My body is still as I listen to him make his way around the hotel room. He's not exactly cruising along, but he isn't exactly dawdling, either. In the space of a few seconds, he had reached the bedroom's entrance and halted there. Holding my breath, I don't turn to look at him.

David mutters, "Take a look at you." You seem to have the ability to carry out basic instructions.

With a start, I open my eyes. When exactly did I lock them? We apologize for the inconvenience.

As in, "I was heard." One little step followed by a larger one.

As I turn my head, I get a glimpse of him in the mirror. David takes off his jacket and stares at my privates while he does so. He throws the coat on one of the two chairs that are near to the bed. He kicks off his shoes and slips them to the side. I bite my lip to keep from demanding that he undress much more, that he expose himself the way I am.

I acted like that in the video I sent him.

How did my SMS message get over? Before I have a chance to consider how best to phrase the inquiry, it just comes out.

Although he might get closer, David stays still. You posted that little video as a tease, hoping I'd come running over to f*ck you like a wild beast. With deliberate motions, he first removes his sweater, and then his T-shirt.

As I write this, I discover that David McGuire has removed his shirt in my hotel room.

The mirror causes me to worry my bottom lip and force myself to maintain my legs apart rather than squeeze them together. He's a large guy. A barrel chest, a muscular stomach, and biceps that scream strength so loudly that they make me weak in the knees.

When we were finally within touching distance of one another, he reached around and touched the flesh that protruded from the gap between my garter belt and the top of my pants. To a bratty little brat like yourself, this may come as a shock, but Anna, you are not in command. I am."

My heart is beating so fast it's scary. What are you trying to say?

What I'm trying to say is, "You've been a hellion for nine long years, and it's time someone put you in your place."

Three times yeah! In other words, "I want to see you try."

His deep cackle makes my stomach knot up. I promise to do more than just attempt on your behalf. Before he gets to where I need him most, he runs his fingers softly over the lace of my underwear, moving down the middle of my ass and then to the side. I make a squeamish noise and resist his hand on my shoulder.

David taps me on the rear end gently. To begin with, though... Is there anything you know for sure you won't agree to?"

As the saying goes, "I'm game for anything." Mostly, I just say it to piss him off.

The man lets out a snort of laughter. "Give it another shot, you jerk. In other words, we all have our boundaries.

"It's not universal." But he has every right to be curious, and I owe him the truth. David is simply trying to make sure we have fun, and brat or not, I can't argue with that. I object to being rendered visually impaired.

Right as he stops moving, I am aware that he was following the hem of my pants. "Okay."

I like that he doesn't probe for explanations, but I figure he must already know. I suffered a head injury from the automobile accident and a bandage was covering my eyes when I woke up. The echo of that terrifying recollection still makes me squirm. I can't abide having my eyes covered ever since it happened. I didn't use a sleep mask or place cucumbers on my eyes.

After hearing this, the speaker can ask, "What else?"

I let out a shaky sigh. "I like a good dose of pain play now and again, but up until now I've limited myself to the occasional spanking or paddling. I won't flat-out reject elaborate proposals, however. Off the top of my head, I can't think of any roleplaying situations that may be triggering.

As in, "Dad, Doc, or Prof?"

My body shudders. It's "non-triggering."

"Mmmm." He gives me a little squeeze in the behind. In the event of an emergency, "you will inform me."

It's not hard to give in to such stipulation. I did it right away when talks were initiated. "Okay."

"Fetal manipulation?"

The answer is "yes," I let out. The closer we get, the hotter it becomes in here, just as at the bar below. He's hardly touching me, yet I feel like I could explode. "I also get tested on a regular basis."

The answer is, "Me, too." There is some hesitation on his part. However, I do have condoms on hand.

Optimistic of you, that is.

That's why "I like to be prepared." His voice is low. Although I wasn't expecting this to happen tonight. He feels the garter belt's straps in the back. The two of us really need to start using condoms. It's the sensible course of action.

What we're doing tonight is completely foolish. Even though I know I'll never see him again, taking such a drastic risk is foolish. The man was my guardian for years, if an absent one. I try to put myself in the shoes of a hormonal, grieving adolescent living in his house, but my mind resists the thought. As it stands, this is the superior option.

We're not kids any more

There's no reason why two consenting adults can't indulge in as much sensual bliss as they can muster for a single evening.

I arch my back a little, pressing my ass more firmly against his hand. I don't want to be a genius.

"Anna-"