What She Says, Chapter 3: Hotel Room

Naked man tied to a chair

The day of my visit arrived, and you left your flat far too early to come and meet me. You’d been kicking your heels all morning and had convinced yourself that the journey into central London would take you an hour but thirty minutes later you were in the lobby of my hotel.

“I’m here early,” your text message said, “come down when you’re ready”.

I smiled when I saw it: I like that you’re keen. “I’ll be a while. Come on up. Room 432.” You read the reply and feel butterflies in your stomach.

It’s a warm summer’s day outside so rather than arriving hot from climbing the stairs you take the elevator to the fourth floor. You stand outside room 432 trying to summon the courage to knock. We haven’t been able to talk since the Skype call last week, beyond arranging to meet today. I’d promised to explain how my husband fitted into the picture. You wondered if that meant that everything had to change.

Another thirty seconds before you bring yourself to knock on the door.

“Just a second,” I called out. A moment later I’m standing in the open doorway wrapped in a hotel dressing gown. As expected, you’re wearing a t-shirt and jeans, virtually the same as you were on the call. I have a feeling it’s what you always wear to save you having to think about it.

I smile, half nervously but genuinely excited. You may wonder if everything has changed but I don’t. I nearly jump at you and wrap my arms around your neck. I can’t help but lift my head and press my lips to yours, my eyes remaining open to see how you’ll react. The answer is with surprise as you freeze, although at least you accept the kiss.

I step back. “Come in, come in,” I say. It feels kind of formal, which is odd since the last time I saw you was as you stood naked in front of a camera.

You still haven’t spoken as you follow me into the hotel room. The door closes behind you. There’s no escape for either of us now.

“Sorry I’m so early,” you say. I don’t mind at all, although I still need to get ready before we go out. I don’t know what you have planned for us for the afternoon, but it’s your city so I’ll follow your lead.

“No worries,” I say, “You’ll just have to give me twenty minutes. Here, have a chair.”

I take your hand and lead you to the wooden chair by the bed. I can’t believe, after seeing how confident you were at the start of our Skype call, just how nervous you are now. I guess that your experience with women is perhaps less than I’d assumed, although admittedly we weren’t doing anything the normal way.

You sit down and look at me, obviously nervous but trying to project enthusiasm. Once you settle down you know you’ll be fine, although any thoughts of settling are quickly gone as you realise you’re in a hotel room with a woman in a dressing gown; a woman who, twice now, has persuaded you to strip naked for her.

It seems odd that, now I’m wearing less than you for the first time, it has upset your mind entirely. You were able to think relatively clearly when the situation was reversed, albeit we weren’t physically together. I come over and sit sideways across your lap and drape my arms over your shoulders. “Hey,” I say, “Just relax. And work out what we’re going to do for the day.”

You put your hands around my waist and we both enjoy the feeling. “Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, “Maybe we could just stay here…” Your hands start to slide up my sides and then I feel you pull at the cord of my gown. You turned from nervous to bold very quickly, but your lack of experience shows.

“Oh no you don’t, mister!” I say, batting your hands and standing up whilst tightening the cord. “I’m getting dressed and then you’re showing me around the town.”

I haven’t really thought what to wear for the afternoon, but there’s a limited choice from whatever fitted in my suitcase. Then I remember something else I have.

“Oooh,” I say, “I got you something.” I go to the wardrobe and take out a short-sleeved shirt. “I knew you’d be wearing a t-shirt, so I thought I’d smarten you up.”

You laugh. Is this how changing a man starts?

I carry the shirt over, still on its hanger, and sit on your lap again, holding it out in front of us.

“And you want me to wear it today?” you ask. I nod. “Okay, I’ll get changed in the bathroom.”

I smile. “After all I’ve seen already?” I like to goad you, to remind you of our past encounters. I toss the shirt onto the bed. “C’mon,” I say, and grab hold of the bottom of your t-shirt and start to lift it. Your brain can’t think fast enough to decide if this is a bad idea or not so you lift your arms so I can pull it over your head. Getting that off you was even easier than it had been on the phone, or over Skype.

I let the t-shirt drop to the floor. I can’t help but stroke your bare shoulders with my palms. I run my hands down your chest before draping my arms back around your neck. My wrists rest on your bare shoulders and I realise my eyes are having trouble focussing. I wonder if there’s anything stirring inside your briefs yet. Your mind realises that a woman in a dressing gown has just taken your t-shirt off and the stirring starts.

I lean over and kiss you again. Unlike the kiss in the doorway, this time you’re carried away in the moment. I feel your hands on my waist again. They’re sure and controlled and stronger than they look. As our lips move I start to lose myself as I go giddy. I can feel your hands moving on my body and part of me doesn’t want them to stop.

Suddenly I lean back and look down and wok out what your hands have been doing: all the while you’ve been pulling at the waist cord of my gown. It’s untied and almost free of the two loops that hold it in place, but the gown is still closed across me. I stand up quickly and hold it shut with my arms.

“Ooh, I’ll get you for trying that,” I say. I’m half serious: this has to be on my terms or it won’t happen at all.

“Kelly told me to be careful,” I say as I walk behind you, “So, hands behind your back.”

“What for?” you ask.

“Just do it.” You comply, putting your arms behind the back of the chair. You feel my hands on your wrists, and then something else around them. You realise what’s going on finally as I tie both your wrists to the chair back with the cord you pulled out of my bath robe.

I walk around to face you again, crossing my arms to hold the robe closed.

“That’s what you get for breaking the rules,” I tell you. You don’t know what to say. Sitting in a chair with your t-shirt off isn’t entirely unexpected, given our recent history, but you never imagined you’d be bound at the wrists as well.

“I thought we were going out today,” you say.

“We are,” I reply, “But I’m going to get ready first and I don’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself.”

You realise that things haven’t worked out too badly so far anyway: there’s a chance you’ll be watching me get ready, and you start to hope I’ll give up on holding the gown shut soon. The first stirrings of your erection are given another boost and you realise that those jeans, in that chair, may not be all that comfortable for much longer.

“Okay. Well, don’t let me stop you,” you say with a smile, indicating my gown with your eyes.

My heart melts at your smile again. Maybe I could just climb on top of you now? Would sex be the worst way to start the afternoon?

I remind myself that I’m not that kind of girl, whatever that means. However, at least I’m in control again, so if anything happens it really will be on my terms.

“Well, I guess you can’t do anything while you’re tied up…”

Your eyes widen. You’ve barely seen a bare arm, and now you’re going to see me naked? The pressure in your briefs increases again.

I look at you questioningly. “Would you really like me to?” I say, teasingly holding the edges of my robe.

You smile and your eyes glaze over: of course you would.

“What would you do for it?” I ask. There’s no point giving something away for free now, is there?

“Erm… I’d…” I forgotten: a man in an aroused state is not one to think creatively.

“How about, you just do whatever I say for the day. And look after me around town, of course.”

You agree enthusiastically, still smiling.

I open the gown a crack, and then quickly push it off my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. I forgot to mention that put my underwear on before you arrived and I feel smug at having led you on. I never said I was naked underneath, did I? For your part, you seem just as contented as if I were naked and, I have to admit, I think I look better with underwear on than without it. I hadn’t planned to show you this much of it, I’d just wanted to feel sexy beneath my clothes all day, but I’m glad I chose the lacy black bra and knickers now.

Your eyes eagerly take me in and I love the attention. After I’ve seen you naked this might seem tame to you, but this is more daring than I’ve ever been with any man. I think it’s the first time I’ve expected to get a good reaction and not been disappointed.

I walk back over and sit on your lap again. My cleavage, such that it is, is only six inches from your face and you can’t help but stare. Your grin widens and I kiss you again. You can make out the dark outline of my nipples through the lace fabric. You glance down at my knickers to see what else you might be able to see and, strangely, I don’t care.

“Happy now?” I ask. You nod. It’s been a long time since a man looked at me the way you’re doing.

I stand up. “Well, I better get ready,” I say. You look disappointed as I walk over to the wardrobe and open the door. I feel so sexy, parading in front of you. It would almost be worth taking off a bit more just to see your reaction. Almost.

“You look really good in that,” you say to me, stirring warmth in my stomach. “But any chance you could…” You tilt your head to indicate my bra.

“No way. I need all of this to keep me in shape anyway. When you get to my age you can’t just let gravity do what it likes.”

“‘At your age?'”, you joke, “You make it sound like you’re ancient. We’re only in our twenties.”

I laugh: so that’s another surprise for you. “You may be in your twenties,” I say, “But I’m racing closer to forty now.”

The expression on your face really is a picture right. Had you not realised I was more than ten years your senior? Obviously you hadn’t.

I laugh and go over to the wardrobe. It’s warm outside so I take out a light blouse and a skirt and throw them on the bed. It does seem a shame to get dressed so soon and I can feel you willing me not to.

I hear a buzzing noise. It’s my mobile phone vibrating on the side table. I pick it up and see a message from Kelly. “How are things going there?” it asks. I smile: I know she thinks I’m taking a risk by meeting up with you like this, but she hasn’t seen you like I have. I didn’t tell her I’d invited you up to my room, though.

I go back to sitting on your lap with one arm draped around your bare shoulders. “It’s Kelly,” I say with a pause.

“Your niece. I remember,” you complete helpfully. I’m surprised you remember much from our past two calls, though, since you had other distractions.

“She’s checking up on me.” I stay sitting, my left hand idly playing with the back of your neck as my right types a reply. “Doing fine,” my message says, “I’ve got him tied to a chair.”

I laugh and explain the joke as I send it. You roll your eyes.

“Well, at least I’m wearing more than you are for a change,” you say with a grin.

“Don’t taunt me,” I warn.

I kneel down between your legs with one forearm on each of your thighs. I look up at your bare chest and into your eyes.

“Have you worked out what we’re doing today?” I ask. Of course you haven’t; there hasn’t been any place for coherent thought in your head for the past fifteen minutes. You’re looking directly down at my chest so I really shouldn’t expect much now.

“You know,” you say, “What I said about your eyes. They’re the most beautiful thing.”

You certainly know how to melt my heart.

“And it’s my eyes you’re looking at?” I ask teasingly, knowing full well that my chest is also along your line of sight. “And anyway, you’re supposed to be telling me what we’re doing for the day.”

“Erm, well, I thought we could walk around and see the sights…” you tail off as I run my hands down your chest and over your thighs. I can’t help but look to see if there’s a bulge growing in your jeans and hope that what I can make out isn’t just a fold of fabric.

“Okay,” I prompt for you to continue, “and what sights will we see?” Then, as if absent-mindedly, I pull at the lace of your left shoe and untie it.

“Well, there’s Piccadilly Circus.” I sit back and lift your left ankle with one hand and pull off your shoe with the other. You watch, but say nothing.

“And?…” I say as I pull off your sock as well.

“Then Trafalgar Square.” I move to the right shoelace and again lift the ankle and pull your shoe off. I look up at you to indicate “go on”.

“And then Whitehall,” you continue. Your right sock comes off and I wonder how long it’ll be before you ask me what I’m doing.

I slide my hands up over your jeans. “And Buckingham … Palace.” There’s a short intake of breath as my thumbs run up the insides of your thighs.

I place my hands on your chest. Your thighs are clamped around my midriff.

“And then what?” I say.

“Well, we could go to St James’s Park.” I run my hands back down your chest and over your stomach, waiting for an answer. I can’t help but slide a hand down over groin. I can feel how hard you’ve become inside your jeans. I feel your cock grow beneath my hand as you’re speech falter momentarily.

“Go on,” I prompt again.

“Well, there’s the park itself.” I unbuckle your belt, pull it all the way through and toss it on the bed. I then unfasten the top button of your jeans, looking up into your eyes the whole time. I raise my eyebrows for you to continue telling me about what we’ll do for the afternoon. “And there’s the lake,” you continue. I can tell you’re losing all focus as I put my fingers on the zip and slide it down, making sure you can feel it all the way. Underneath you’re wearing nice tight, black briefs again.

I can’t resist running my finger along the bulge in your underwear again. Your head rocks back and your lungs feel with air. I stop and rest my arms on your thighs again.

“And the lake?… you were saying,” I prompt

“Oh, well, we could walk around the lake…” I tug at the waistband of your jeans and they move a little and then, sliding my hands around the back and pulling slightly, you compliantly lift your bum off the seat. You still haven’t said a word about what I’m doing.

“And then we could head towards the river,” you continue as I pull on your jeans and slide them down your thighs and your calves. I have to rock back on my feet to sit on the bed to get out from between your legs and, pulling as I go, I slip your jeans off of your feet and throw them to one side. I kneel back between your legs and run my hands up your bare calves and thighs. I love the feeling as the hair passes between my fingers and beneath my palms.

“Don’t stop,” I say, looking up at you. “What about when we get to the river?” I rest my forearms on the bare skin of your thighs. You’re only wearing your briefs now, and you’ve still said nothing about it.

I rest my head on my right arm, enjoying the view of your naked legs and torso as my left hand runs up and down your thigh, and around your waistband, brushing over the cloth over the tip of your penis as I do so.

“Well, there’s, erm, there’s the Tate Gallery.” I’m enjoying just how much effort it’s taking you to continue speaking.

“And what else?” I ask with a smile. I’d like to see if you manage the next sentence.

“Down the river there’s…” You tail off as I run my forefinger up the bulge in your briefs. I can make out the entire shape of your penis as it strains against the fabric.

“Down the river there’s?…” I ask as I hook a finger into your waistband and pull it away from your body.

“There’s… there’s the Tower…” Your cock bobs into sight, now free of the constrictive elastic around your waist. You watch my eyes go wide at the sight of it and then I look up at you again, wanting to see your reaction as I touch the tip of your penis with the back of my finger. Your head rolls back again and your breath shudders.

I carefully let the elastic go back, but there’s no way I’m going to fit you back into your briefs. I leave the waistband pressing your shaft into your stomach. Your breathing is rapid and shallow I know I have to be careful or it’ll all be over too quickly.

“The Tower?…” I ask.

“Erm, the Tower, and then…” I laugh a little.

“It’s okay. I think I get the idea,” I say, and then, putting both hands into your waistband, I pull and, again, you lift your backside off the seat. I pull the briefs down and off your feet. I hadn’t planned for you to be naked, and certainly not so soon in the day, I promise, but I’m very happy you are.

I run my hands up your bare thighs again and your breath shudders. Your penis bobs and I lean my right arm on your thigh and rest my head on it again. From where I’m sitting I can look up at your eyes and have your enormous erection filling my vision.

“Erm, how did you…” you start to ask, wondering at what point you didn’t stop this from happening.

“Shhhh…” I say and run the knuckles of my left hand gently up your penis and back down before extending a finger to swirl around your balls. Your breath shudders again as your eyes close. I could do this for hours, but I don’t think you could. I decide I need to give you a break.

“You know,” I say, “I’m sorry I hadn’t said anything about my husband before. I mean, I thought you knew, from my Facebook profile.”

You gain some semblance of self-control again. You remember that, maybe, you had seen some photos of me with another man and wondered what they were, but, possibly, you didn’t want to ask in case you didn’t like the answer.

You look down at me more seriously now, but I don’t mean for it to be like this. I realise I need to finish explaining. I don’t feel I need to stop teasing you at the same time, though.

“It’s not exactly a happy marriage,” I say wistfully and then, lost in thought and forgetting the effect it will have, I run my finger up and down your shaft again. I look up at your half-closed eyes and realise you’re still able to listen, just about.

“We’ve been growing apart for years,” I explain, “And we don’t share the same bed.” I run my finger down the top of your thigh and then slowly up the inside and then against your ball sac. “So, it’s not like you’re getting involved in any complicated, because there’s nothing to get involved with.”

With what I’m doing to you, you wonder what kind of man would let me drift away the way my husband has. All I would say was that life never happens as you expect it to.

You look suddenly serious. “But you haven’t told him…”

I shake my head emphatically. “No, that would just complicate things.” You breathe a sigh of relief and I stroke your penis with the back of my fingers again, watching it bob as I swirl around the tip. Your eyes close and your lungs fill with air.

I pull myself upright and lean forwards to press myself against you. I can feel your swollen shaft between my breasts and the lace of my bra presses into you. I realise that, as well as my own rapid heartbeat, I can feel your pulse against my chest.

“So, don’t worry, okay?” I almost plead. I don’t want anything to spoil today.

You look doubtful, but nod.

“Now close your eyes a second,” I instruct. You do so and I slide down your front, making sure you can feel as much of my skin against yours as possible. I sink to my knees and look up at the towering monster in front of me and then, on a whim, I lean forwards and touch the base with my tongue. I feel your body tense and your legs squeeze against my sides. Now that’s the kind of reaction I like to get.

I run my tongue upwards and can feel you holding your breath. Your cock pushes against my tongue as I linger on the sensitive skin just below the tip. As I move back your breath shortens and I remember, again, that I don’t want this to be over too early.

I don’t need self-control to slow me down as my phone buzzes again. “That’ll be Kelly,” I whisper, “Checking up on me again.”

I stand up and pick up my phone and laugh. Your eyes are just about focusing on the room again.

“She’s asking if you’re naked yet,” I say with a smile. I type a reply, press “send” and then look over at you. I really could just climb on top of you… but not yet. We’ve only just met.

“Okay. I’m going to get ready, and then we can go out,” I say with more assertiveness than I feel.

You realise that the afternoon isn’t going to have quite the start you were hoping it was building towards, but you’re kind enough not to try to push it. I smile at the sight of you there, naked and tied to the hotel chair. The thought of staying in for the afternoon does have some appeal, but I’d like there to be something more than this to remember from the day.

You watch as I pick up the skirt and take it off its hanger.

“Do I get my clothes back yet?” you ask. Your erection hasn’t even started to subside yet.

“When I say so, okay?” I reply. That last wasn’t a question.

I pull on the skirt and then the blouse. There’s something incredibly erotic about getting dressed in front of a helpless naked man. I study you as I fasten my buttons. Your penis waves again; it seems that this is as much of a turn-on for you as it is for me.

I go into the bathroom and come out with my lipstick. I don’t wear a lot of makeup and I’d already done my eyes before you arrived, but I feel like this will suit the mood.

I come over to stand next to you, conscious of your eyes on me the whole time, and then, leaning on the table with my left hand so I can get close to the mirror, I pout my lips and run the lipstick around them as you watch. I pretend to be oblivious to your attention.

I sit back on the bed in my skirt and blouse and look you in the eyes. “Well, I’m ready.” I say, and then look you up and down pointedly. It’s fascinating to watch the combination of sheepishness and arousal on your face. I’ve never felt so completely in charge before. I wonder if you could escape the ties around your wrists, if you really tried.

I stand up, pick up my small shoulder bag and put the lipstick inside. Then, almost as an afterthought, I bend down and pick up your briefs.

“Can I have those back now?” you ask me.

“No,” I say, and put them into my bag. “I don’t know my way around London, and if I keep these for the day then you won’t be getting far, will you?”

You wonder if that means at least you’ll get your jeans back. I think if I could get away with it without you being arrested, especially if someone say that monster sticking out of the front of you, then I would.

I pick up my phone and then, on a whim, hold it in front of me. You hear the click.

“Did you just take a photo?” you ask with wide eyes.

My femme fatale act fails slightly as I laugh. “Yeah… I want something to remember this by.” You roll your eyes again, but I can’t help but feel that you’re actually flattered as I fiddle with my phone.

I slip my feet into my shoes. To fit the scene, I should really be wearing stilettoes, but I think my strappy sandals with their small heel are quite sexy anyway. Another wave of your penis tells me that you agree.

I walk over and kneel between your legs again and press my body against yours. The fabric of my blouse presses against you. The soft material against your skin sends a wave of pleasure through you.

“Now, I’ll untie you in a minute, okay?” You nod. “I’ll be down in the lobby and you can come down when you’re ready.” You nod again. “There’s a good boy. I would kiss you, but I’d need to do my lipstick again, so this will have to do.” I reach my hand down and place my fingers gently around your balls. My fingers feel cool to the touch and instantly your back arches and your eyes close.

I slide down your front again and, with one hand still on your ball sac and another on your chest, I run my tongue up and down your shaft, pausing each time at the top. If I hadn’t been wearing lipstick, then, well, you can probably guess.

I feel you arch towards me and your toes begin to curl, and it’s time for me to stop. I stand up again, leaving you panting in the seat. I move behind you and untie your hands, but you’re too busy concentrating on not ejaculating to notice what I’m doing. As your breath starts to slow I decide to head downstairs and wait for you while you recover.

I pick up my phone just as it buzzes again. “Oooh, it’s another message from Kelly,” I say, and then laugh as I read it.

“Look.” I hold the phone towards your dazed eyes. “It says ‘nice pic’ with a smiley face. I’ll see you downstairs in a minute.”

As you wait for your erection to go away you wonder what it is that you’ve gotten yourself into.

Next chapter: Sightseeing