Room 714: Room Service

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“Not unsexy at all,” I said. “I’m starving too.”

So I rang down and ordered two club sandwiches, chips and a bottle of wine, and while we waited she climbed into my lap and carried on exactly where she’d left off.

My shirt came off. My trousers came off. She took my cock in her hand and stroked it slowly, kissing me, her hips rocking against my thigh. I slid two fingers inside her and she gasped and rode them, soaking wet, her forehead pressed to mine. We forgot about the sandwiches entirely.

She had a condom in her wash bag. She rolled it on me and sank down onto me on the armchair, moaning, her knees pressed into the cushions either side of my hips. We found a rhythm. It was fast and messy and wonderful, and she was close, so close, her nails in my shoulders.

Then: knock knock. “Room service!”

And the door, which neither of us had double-locked, swung open.

The waiter was nineteen at most. He stood there with a silver tray, staring at Priya’s bare back and my face over her shoulder.

There was a very long silence.

“Just leave it on the side,” Priya said, without turning round. “Thanks so much.”

He left it on the side. He left. We laughed so hard we couldn’t finish.

The sandwiches were excellent, though.

Ending 10 of 16: Room Service. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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Room 714: A Number on the Pillow

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“Forget food,” I said. “You’re in charge. Remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” She pushed me back onto the bed and straddled my hips, completely naked now, and she looked down at me like a cat with a very small mouse.

Then she took her time. A ridiculous, cruel amount of time.

She undressed me button by button. She kissed my chest, my stomach, the line of hair below my navel, then stopped and kissed her way back up again. She rubbed herself slowly against my cock through my boxers until I was gasping, then sat back and watched me squirm.

“Please,” I said eventually.

“Please what?”

“Please anything.”

She laughed, low and delighted, and slid her hand into my boxers and stroked me exactly twice. Then she took it away again.

“I told you,” she whispered. “I decide how far it goes. And tonight it goes this far.” She kissed me, slow and deep, and lay down with her head on my chest. “You can be impulsive next time.”

“Next time?”

“Shh. Sleep.”

I didn’t, for a long while. When I finally woke it was eight, the room was quiet and her bag was gone.

On the pillow beside me, written on hotel notepaper in neat architect’s capitals, was a phone number. Underneath it said:

NEXT TIME. YOUR HOTEL, YOUR BOOKING. P.

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Room 714: The Husband Calls

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I rolled over and kissed her.

She kissed me back, hungry, her hand still between my legs. I pushed her vest up and found her bare breasts in the dark, small and soft, nipples hard under my thumbs. She moaned. She hooked her leg over my hip and pulled me against her, and I could feel the heat of her through her knickers.

Then her phone lit up on the bedside table.

It buzzed. And buzzed. The screen glowed bright in the dark room, a photo of a smiling man in a rugby shirt and a single word underneath: ARJUN.

She froze.

“Who’s Arjun?” I said, though I had a horrible feeling I already knew.

“My husband.” She sat up, pulling her vest down. “We’re separated. Sort of. Mostly. We haven’t decided.” She stared at the phone. “He’s thirty-one and he never rings after ten.”

“You said you were single.”

“I said I’d been single for a year. Emotionally.” She winced. “That sounds worse out loud.”

The phone stopped. Then it started again.

She picked it up. “Hi,” she said, in a completely different voice, and walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

I lay on my side of the pillow wall for forty minutes, listening to murmuring and then crying and then laughing. At one in the morning I quietly got dressed, took my case downstairs, and slept in the lobby.

Reception found me a room at six.

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Room 714: Just Her Hand

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I lay back and let her.

Her fingers slid under the waistband and wrapped around my cock, warm and confident. She stroked me slowly, root to tip, learning me. I let out a long breath.

“Good?” she whispered.

“Very.”

She shifted closer, her chest against my arm, her mouth by my ear. She was in no hurry. She stroked me lazily, then faster, then slow again, twisting her palm over the head, spreading the wetness that was leaking out of me. Every time I got close, she eased off and laughed softly into my neck.

“You’re very good at this,” I managed.

“I’m very good at lots of things. You don’t get to find out tonight.”

She pulled my boxers down properly and went faster, her grip firm, her breath warm on my ear. I gripped the sheet. Her thumb rolled over the head of my cock one last time and I came hard, all over my stomach and her hand, groaning into the dark.

She kissed my cheek, wiped her hand on my thigh and rolled back onto her side.

“Night, Liam,” she said, already sleepy.

I lay there waiting for round two. I waited a long time.

In the morning she was cheerful and friendly and completely unbothered, and she shook my hand at the lift like we’d met at a conference.

Which, technically, I suppose we had.

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Room 714: Out Like a Light

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I pulled her up off her knees, kissed her hard, and lifted her. She wrapped her legs round my waist, squealing, and I carried her dripping through the bathroom door and dropped her onto the bed.

“Very romantic,” she said, laughing. “Very wet. The sheets are soaked.”

“I’ll pay for the sheets.”

“You’ll pay for a lot of things.” She rolled over, giggling, and reached for the towel. “Give me two minutes. I need to sort my hair before it turns into a bird’s nest. Don’t go anywhere.”

She disappeared back into the bathroom. I heard the hairdryer start up.

I lay back on the bed, naked and damp and harder than I’d been in years, and stared at the ceiling, and listened to the hairdryer hum.

The pillow was very soft.

The bed was very warm.

I had been awake since five o’clock in the morning.

The next thing I knew, sunlight was coming through the curtains. My alarm was going off. Checkout was in an hour, and the duvet had been tucked carefully over me, right up to my chin.

Priya was sitting at the desk, dressed, packing her bag, and trying very hard not to laugh.

“You snore,” she said. “Loudly.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was the most relaxing night I’ve had all year.” She kissed my forehead, grabbed her bag and left.

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Room 714: Steam

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I put one hand flat on the tiles and let her.

She took me into her mouth slowly, warm and wet, the shower drumming on her shoulders and running down her back. Her lips stretched round me. She looked up through her wet lashes and took me deeper, one hand wrapped around the base, the other cupping my balls.

“Jesus, Priya.”

She hummed around me and I nearly lost it right there. She found a rhythm, slow and steady, then faster, her tongue swirling under the head every time she pulled back. Steam everywhere. Water in my eyes. My hand found her wet hair and rested there, not pushing, just holding on.

“I’m close,” I warned her.

She didn’t stop. She sucked harder, and I came with a groan that echoed off the tiles, and she swallowed every drop and kept her mouth on me until I was shaking.

Then she stood up, kissed me on the mouth and grinned.

“Right,” she said. “That’s my holiday story sorted.”

I reached for her. She caught my wrist and laughed, gently.

“Tomorrow,” she said. “I’m knackered. Rosie’s had me in a spa all day.”

We slept in the same bed, her back against my chest. When I woke at seven she was already gone, off on an early train with Rosie. On the mirror, written in the steam, was a heart.

No number. Just a heart.

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Room 714: The Girl Next Door

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I should have said nothing. Instead I said the truth.

“I’m sorry,” I told Priya. “You’re lovely. But I can’t stop looking at Rosie.”

The silence was long and terrible. Then Priya stood up, the towel clutched tight, and her face did something complicated.

“Fine,” she said. “Honestly? Fine. Take him, Rosie. I’m going to have a bath and pretend this didn’t happen.”

Rosie, to her credit, looked guilty for almost two whole seconds. Then she grabbed my hand and pulled me through the connecting door into 716 and locked it behind us.

“Oh, she’ll forgive us,” she whispered. “She always does.”

Her slip came off over her head. She was all soft curves and freckled shoulders, big heavy breasts with pale pink nipples, and she pushed me back on her bed and climbed on top of me like she owned the place. She kissed me hard and loud. She took a condom from her washbag, tore it open with her teeth and rolled it down my cock, grinning.

She rode me noisily, gloriously, with no thought at all for the wall between her and Priya. She came twice, yelling. I came once, hard enough to see stars.

At breakfast Priya sat at a separate table and wouldn’t look at either of us.

On the way out she slipped a note under my coffee cup.

You picked wrong, it said.

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Room 714: Three in a Bed

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“Yes,” I said. “If you’re both sure.”

“We’re sure,” Rosie said, and kissed me, and then Priya pulled my face round and kissed me too, and after that it was hard to keep track.

Clothes went everywhere. Rosie’s green slip, my shirt, Priya’s towel. Two mouths on my neck, four hands on my body. Rosie was soft and pale and full, Priya small and brown and quick, and they kept laughing at each other between kisses like two girls getting away with something.

Rosie sucked my cock while Priya straddled my face, and I licked Priya until she came grinding down on my tongue, gripping the headboard. Then they swapped. Then they kissed each other over me, slow and curious, and that nearly finished me on its own.

Rosie’s washbag had plenty of condoms. Priya rode me first, Rosie behind her, kissing her shoulders, reaching round to rub her clit until she came shuddering. Then Rosie lay back and pulled me down onto her, her legs wrapped round me, Priya stroking her hair. I lasted about three minutes and didn’t care.

We ended up in a tangle of sheets and crisps at two in the morning, all three of us giggling at the ceiling.

“Never again,” Priya said.

“Absolutely never,” Rosie agreed.

They were both still lying when we checked out together at noon.

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Room 714: Caught on the Balcony

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The balcony was tiny, cold and absolutely thrilling. Seventh floor, city lights spread out below, a wet breeze on our skin. Priya leaned her elbows on the rail, naked, and looked back over her shoulder at me.

“Nobody can see,” she said again.

I stood behind her and kissed down her spine. She pushed back against me, and I slid a hand between her legs and found her soaking. She gasped into the night air. I rolled on a condom and pushed into her from behind, slow, her hands gripping the rail, her breath steaming.

It was incredible. For about four minutes.

Then the balcony door of 716 slid open, and Rosie stepped out with a cigarette.

She stared. We froze. And from the balcony directly opposite, across the courtyard, a whole hen party in pink sashes burst into a round of applause.

“GO ON, SON!” someone screamed.

Priya shrieked and dived inside. I followed, banging my head on the door frame. Rosie was crying with laughter on the other side of the wall.

Ten minutes later the phone rang. Reception. There had been a complaint about public nudity from a guest across the courtyard, and also, coincidentally, they had found me a new room on the second floor. Right away. Immediately, in fact.

Priya kissed me goodbye at the door, still pink to her ears.

“Worth it,” she whispered.

It was. Mostly.

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Room 714: The Long Night

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I laid her back on the bed and took my time. All of it.

I kissed her everywhere: her mouth, her throat, the soft undersides of her breasts. I sucked each dark nipple until she was twisting the sheets. I kissed down her stomach and spread her thighs and licked her slowly, and she tasted sweet and wet and gasped my name at the ceiling. I didn’t rush. When she came the first time, her thighs clamped round my head and she laughed and swore at the same time.

Rosie’s condoms were by the connecting door, as promised. Priya rolled one onto me herself, then pulled me down and guided me into her, inch by slow inch, her eyes locked on mine.

We fucked for what felt like hours. Slow and deep, then hard, the headboard knocking. Her on top, riding me with her hands on my chest. Me behind her, gripping her hips, her face in the pillow, moaning. She came again with me buried in her, and I followed, shaking.

We talked until three. Then she reached for me again.

At eight the alarm went for checkout. She rolled on top of me, warm and sleepy, and sank down onto my morning-hard cock without a word, riding me slow and lazy in the grey light until we both came, laughing, breathless.

At reception I asked for a late checkout. For both of us.

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