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“The girlfriend,” I said, and felt my face go hot. “Is that ridiculous? I just haven’t been kissed properly in a very long time.”
Vivienne’s expression softened into something that looked a lot like real. “It’s not ridiculous at all. It’s my favourite, actually.”
In the lift she took my hand. By the eighth floor she’d pressed me against the mirrored wall and kissed me, slow and unhurried, her fingers in my hair. By the eleventh I’d forgotten what floor we were going to.
In the suite she undressed me like she was unwrapping something she’d been looking forward to. Shirt, belt, trousers. Then she turned around and let me unzip the green dress. Underneath was black lace and pale freckled skin, and I kissed the back of her neck and felt her shiver.
We lay on the big bed and kissed for a long time. She guided my hand between her legs and showed me exactly how she liked to be touched, little circles, patient, until she was wet and breathing hard against my mouth. Then she took my cock in her hand and stroked me slowly, smiling at the noise I made.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table. A gentle alarm. She glanced at it.
“That’s the halfway mark,” she said softly. “Just so you know where we are. No pressure.”
I looked at the clock. I looked at her.