The suite

I booked the suite. Ivo did not. He is forty, a cellist, and he does not employ me. I am not exclusive to him and he is not exclusive to me, which we say out loud so nobody gets poetic. I was in the chair by the window when he arrived, black dress, hair down, heels on the carpet, city lights behind the glass. I looked like a woman who might still go downstairs. I told him to sit on the bed and listen before he touched me. He sat.

I told him I had fucked Colin in a green room months ago, a stranger, over a table, and that I had liked it. Ivo's mouth curved. I said I wanted him to fuck me harder than that because I was asking, not because he had a claim to avenge. The word was encore, same as always. He repeated it. I stood, hiked the dress, and bent over the chair with the city in front of me. I said cock in my cunt, and a finger in my ass if I ask for the finger. Not your cock there. He said he understood.

He pushed his cock into my cunt and fucked me hard, the chair creaking, my heels digging the carpet. I told him about Colin's cock while Ivo's cock drove deeper, because the truth makes me wet and because Ivo likes the truth. He fucked me through the telling. I said finger. He slicked one and pressed it into my ass, slow, while his cock stayed in my cunt. The double fill made my arms shake. I came loud, cunt and ass clenching, forehead on the chair back, city lights jumping. Encore did not get used. I had asked for all of it.

I turned and sat on the edge of the bed and told him to cum on my tits. I pulled the neckline down enough to bare them, chain shifted aside. He stroked his cock, still shiny from my cunt, and came across my chest, hot stripes, his eyes on mine. I rubbed it in with two fingers and sucked one clean. Then I said I might call a stranger tomorrow. He said good. He meant it. That is why I keep fucking him, and why I keep fucking other people in the same month.

He used the bathroom and did not ask to stay. I walked him to the door with the dress straight again, heels on, hair down, the chair still turned toward the glass. No second key. No promise. I locked the suite, wiped my chest, and stood at the window with his cum tacky under the cloth and tomorrow unplanned on purpose. My hands were steady. I like them that way after a rough fuck that minded the word.