The Final Arrangement - Sex Stories

The Final Arrangement

... eyes... He leans forward and we kiss again. A warm glow blooms, our surroundings fade as my whole world becomes that simple, soft, delicate contact. Eyes closed. I taste him; inhale his scent. His lips barely touch yet a sparkling fizz spreads through my body. Something long suppressed stirs within. Something base and primal.

Footsteps.

We quickly separate as an older, grey-haired lady strides noisily into the lounge and sits in a nearby wing-backed, upholstered chair. She glares at us over the top of a newspaper that she purposefully opens with a loud, rustling flourish.

Glancing at each other we burst into embarrassed giggles like teenagers found out. And there's the briefest of moments where humour trails away, his eyes meet mine and something meaningful passes between us: a silent collusion. I hear the cries of my conscience - faint and distant - screaming protests, as a devil whispers, close, into my ear. Standing, he suggests that we go somewhere more private to continue our conversation. I nod, stand slowly and, taking his hand, we walk across the lobby toward the lifts.

His hand feels strong, with the light callouses of a craftsman, yet gentle. We walk in silence. Our mutual commitment. John's gift... Inner butterflies are driven aside by the feeling of my heart, thumping with such energy that I feel my chest resonate.

And as the lift doors close I feel his strong hands on my back pull me into his firm body. Lips touch and part. Tongues tentatively ...

... make contact, taste each other and explore. The world recedes again as mouths and bodies wrapped in each other's arms become the centre of our universe. The temperature rises again igniting a slow, smouldering seduction.

Somehow we're at a room. His keycard rattles the lock. He steps backwards inside and...

I suddenly stop and let go, pulling back. He stands, puzzled.

The air is thick with anticipation. He stands silently, patiently, hand open in relaxed invitation. I feel the burden of consequences in the decision of this moment, hesitating. Then movement: I watch my hand, unbidden, reach for his and take it. It feels warm and safe, fingers gently held - no urgency. He leads me slowly inside.

For the first time in twenty-nine years, I'm standing in a hotel bedroom with a man that is not my husband.

He turns briefly and places something on a desk.

The door swings closed behind me. The clunk of the latch echoes loudly, decisively. I sense the rest of the world left outside, feeling a sudden relief as if guilt, anxiety and sadness are left out there with it. Unburdened, lurking primal cravings flow into the vacuum they leave behind. Subconsciously, options are discarded before the echo fades. My hands have unbuckled the belt around my raincoat and fingers are unbuttoning. He watches as I shrug the rain-soaked coat off my shoulders. It pools at my feet revealing the naked, wanton woman in heels. And in that moment under the sweep of his lustful gaze, I feel so ...