You have a date and time, an address, and a key with a room number. The address is a hotel, a nice one, and the room is on an upper floor. You knock. I answer. I smile, eyes twinkling.
I'm wearing a pair of silk pajamas in a paisley that complements my hazel eyes. I hand you a matching set and guide you to the bathroom to change. You protest. You won't mind changing into them in front of me, or foregoing them altogether.
"Patience, my sweet," I say. "There's time for that."
The pajamas consist of a short silk robe, belted at the waist, and a pair of drawstring pants. When you emerge you find that I have laid out the room's small table with an elegant dinner for two. There is a soft pop as I pull the cork from the wine and pour two glasses.
The meal is light as I have no interest in lethargy. There is romaine lettuce topped with marinated chicken and orange slices, and small red potatoes sprinkled with herbs. In addition to the glass of rosé each of us has a goblet of water on the table. Between us, there is a small handmade clay pot containing thick, textured, deep red fluid.
Once again you express impatience, but not in words. You eat quickly, you are restless, but I linger over my meal. I don't touch the little pot. You ask about it but I say, "It's for later," and nothing more. I make sure to drink all of my water before the meal is done.
I could ask about your flight, but both of us know why we are here. You cut through the small talk.
You ask when we will start.
I smile sweetly and set my glass on the table. "I want to make sure I understand what we are to be about, before going any further. Have I interpreted your intentions correctly, that you are giving your body to me, to do with as I wish until the morning?"
Your answer is affirmative, defiant, and demanding.
"There is one detail that we must entertain. You must pick a word, a safeword. I'm sure you're familiar with the concept. If you say the word your consent is withdrawn; everything will stop right there."
You demur. You can't think of anything I would do that would make you want to stop. I insist. I will go no further without it. Reluctantly, just to get past the formality, you choose, inspired by the bloom that stands in the center of the table.
"Then it is time." I reach across the table and take your hand, and lead you out to the room's small balcony. Our pajamas keep out most of the chill and my warm body is close, close enough that I can grip the railing on either side of you. Below us the streetlights provide plenty of illumination. We can easily see just how far off the ground we are. I know you're not prone to vertigo, but I know the height will have an effect on you nonetheless. I bend down and kiss your shoulder just inside the loose collar of your top. The kiss is light, tender. One after another, I line them up along the muscle that leads to the spot behind your jaw. Before I reach my destination, you interrupt me.
You turn your head and catch my lips with yours. Your kiss is insistent. I let you express your desire and then break off. "Patience, my sweet," I repeat and push my body against yours. You can feel my hard cock against the small of your back with only two layers of thin material between. We kiss again, lips and tongues and cheeks and chins.
I slide one hand from the railing up your belly. The metal has stolen the heat from my hand and it is cool against your skin, but it warms quickly. My hand steals under your pajama top for a moment, stroking the bare skin around your navel, but then moves to the knot in the belt that holds it closed. I pull the knot free and slowly pull the silken band out of its loops. Your top falls open, exposing your breasts to the night air.
I am still kissing you as I gently wrap the silk belt around your wrist, and tie a gentle knot. It is not something you could slip your hand out of, but the knot is a simple one. I wrap the belt around the railing, spiraling along to a spot about two feet further along, and tie your other wrist there. A shudder passes through your body.
"Cold?" I ask. "Let me warm you up a little."
I leave you there, tied to the railing. You could bend down and pull the knots out with your teeth, but you don't. You look over your shoulder, and watch as I retrieve the red sauce from the table. Carefully, I dip the tip of my little finger. "This," I say, "is a very special pepper sauce. It's really too hot to use in large quantities. Only a drop is needed for a serving... of food." Looking over your shoulder, I apply it to your chilly, erect nipple with the gentlest touch and rub it in.