The service hall
The app did not give me a real name and I did not ask for one. He was thirty-four. The word we had set was ivory. If he did not say his age and ivory, I would take the service elevator back up and sleep alone in the room I had paid for. I do not fuck clients. I was not working. I was a guest in a plain hotel, grey hair down, navy cardigan, standing in a service hall with a door behind me and a man I might still refuse.
He came around the corner and stopped at a polite distance. Thirty-four, he said. Ivory. I liked his voice enough to stay. I told him I would suck his cock here, because I wanted the risk of the hall, and then we would go to my room and he would fuck my cunt and cum inside. If I changed my mind in the hall, the room was cancelled and he would leave. He said yes. I checked the corridor. Empty. I put a hand on the doorframe the way I had been standing, clothed, cardigan buttoned, and then I knelt.
His cock was hot and straightforward. I sucked him slowly, greedy, one hand on his thigh, the other working what my mouth left over. Footsteps happened once at the far end and we both froze, his cock still on my tongue, my heart stupid and pleased. The steps went away. I took him deeper and let the spit get messy. I did not let him cum. I wanted that upstairs. I stood, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and led him to the room I had booked. He never offered a name. I never requested one. Anonymous is not a riddle I need solved.
On the bed I got the trousers off and kept the cardigan. He fucked my cunt with his cock while I held his face and told him, gentle, how deep to stay. I rubbed my clit. I came with a soft sound I did not perform, cunt gripping him, heels dug into the mattress. I told him to cum in me. He did, pressed close, a long shudder, cum warm inside my cunt. I kept him there until he softened. Then I sent him out without a number and without a story about who he was at home. I lay on a towel I had asked housekeeping for that morning and felt him leak. I slept alone. The service hall was just a hall again by the time I checked out. In the morning I ate alone, cardigan on, cunt still tender from his cock, and I liked the blank where a name would have been. Anonymous is a kindness I give myself. I can be greedy with my mouth and still leave a man entire and unknown. The hall had been the risky suck. The room had been the fuck. Both were finished, and I did not turn either one into breakfast for two.
