Daisy - Sex Stories

Daisy

... roll.”

***

Bags in hand, Pete stood solidly at Daisy’s side. The elevator, layered in golden mirrors, climbed silently. A Neil Diamond tune played softly from unseen speakers. Daisy read Pete’s stony expression reflecting back at her off the elevator doors. Two bottles of wine and the silent treatment later, Daisy feared her night with him would be a bust. It was her fault. She knew that since she was guilty of so much. Aiden Keane was in her thoughts as each minute stretched into the next.

“What’s wrong, babe?” she asked, trying to sound light, jovial, hoping that he would just let his disappointment in her go.

“Still trying to figure that dude out.”

“Pete, let it go already. Good grief. The guy is gone. Let’s just let it go.”

“What did he mean about pleasure?”

“You know what he meant.”

“No. Why don’t you tell me? Seems like you two were having a different conversation.”

“Huh?” she gasped. The elevator stopped. The mirrored doors parted to the private floor. The Tower suites were accessible through a private VIP check in. Daisy had declined the bellhop services. After one look at the Louis Vutton, Gucci, and Burberry luggage on his cart, she decided to carry her own TJ Maxx twenty-five dollar Pierre Cardin. The floor was as grand as she thought it would be. The carpet was again the Irish green, the walls olive with a cream-colored trim. Their floor only had four suite doors. Daisy walked along, her eyes seeking 5033A. She chose to ignore Pete’s ...

... question. She wasn’t going to let his attitude ruin it for her. This was the moment she’d been itching for since that key was placed in her hand. She dropped it into the slot. The little green light blinked; there was a soft click. Daisy pushed down on the door handle and it gave. She slowly opened the door to their private suite. She couldn’t bring herself to cross the threshold.

“What’s the problem?” Pete groaned. “Go in.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Daisy let her luggage handle go after the third step. The carpet was a plush moss and the walls a leaf green with golden stripes in the wallpapering. To the left, through the open bathroom door, were polished marble floors, golden, with a soaking tub, glass enclosed shower, private toilets, night-lights under his-and-her sinks. Daisy’s eyes stretched wide. A flat-screen TV and telephone were in the bathroom.

“Daze, move.”

She did, like a windup toy. His voice remained the only way she could process thought or provoke action. Daisy went through the suite and stopped before an ottoman, dining table and chairs, a private desk, and flat-screen wall-mounted television. The bed was king size, with the thickest mattress she’d ever seen, covered with a cream and green duvet and pillows stacked against a large headboard. Pete came behind her. His hand dropped on the wall. Inadvertently, he hit a button and surprised them both by the automation that made the drapes part.

“Tell me this isn’t paradise. Tell me!” Daisy breathed.

“Yeah, ...