Chapter ８

My momentum is increased by the ease with which I recall David's comments. I make my way slowly through the living area towards the spacious master bedroom. My New York apartment is somewhat larger. What drew me to this hotel, this bar, and this suite was the overwhelming grandeur. It's different from the celebrations I've thrown for my prior adult birthdays, but in a good way.

It's all over now; things will never be the same.

After giving the bedroom some thought, I go and switch on the lights on both ends of the bed. Just enough illumination to get about, but not enough to dispel the shadowy allure of forbidden activity. The fact that the night sky acts as a mirror on the ceiling-to-floor windows is icing on the cake. When I take a good look at myself, my spirit rises.

I have average looks, but my real talent is that I am quite photogenic. Without the trust fund, the gift would have allowed me to become financially self-sufficient. Combine that with the millions of people who follow me on social media and my terrible past, and advertisers will do just about anything to get their products in front of my audience.

Tonight, none of it really matters.

I couldn't give a crap what random people thought of my physique and appearance.

What David McGuire thinks is the only opinion that matters to me.

Getting out of my clothing is more of a hassle than I would like. Good thing I'm adaptable, since else I'd be doomed. I'm sweating and cursing my outfit selections by the time the fabric slithers to the floor around me. Is there still time for me to accomplish this? Defining with any precision is impossible.

I debate with myself for all of 0.1 seconds before deciding to hang up the outfit. If it is destroyed, I won't be able to replace it no matter how much money I have, since it was custom made by a lady who seldom ships outside of her small city.

For tonight, I took extra care in what I wore. My dark crimson designer balconette bra has the lightest lace and is meant to highlight rather than hide my breasts. The color of my stockings is the same as the color of my garter belt and pants, but I choose to wear nothing underneath. While the length of the dress meant that stockings weren't strictly necessary, I couldn't resist the opportunity to wear my favorite garter belt with my skin-baring bare legs on display. The outfit is finished off with the silver strappy shoes.

In my case, I always wear heels.

After a second of thought, I decide to keep my underwear on as well. They're bikini-cut, but see-through, with the same teasing intent as the bra. Despite my clothing, I may as well be exposed.

The bed is on the wall opposite the entrance, so the lights will cast a flattering glow about me when I bend down to make the sheets. Putting things off won't accomplish anything. For as long as it takes, I will do what David instructs and wait for him. Even if I have more than my share of pride, it serves no use right now.

I take a deep breath in and slowly lean down, bracing myself on my forearms on the bed. A few goose bumps have appeared on my exposed skin thanks to the air conditioner's playful taunts. No matter how much I'd want to hide my eyes, I'm a performer at heart. The mirror in the window beckons my attention, and I turn to face it.

My rear end is in the air thanks to my heels and the posture, and my body is a long line of invitation. My hair is a tumbling torrent over the black blanket, and my breasts are now fighting to escape the lace of the bra. My lower lip is bitten and my legs are split apart. David will be able to see that perspective, which I now lack.

Assuming he shows up, of course.

Not at this time; I have no room for negative thoughts or self-doubt. If he didn't mean to come after me, he wouldn't have put me up here. Exactly how did he put it?

To that tight little body of yours, I will do whatever the fuck I want.

Are we in for a hard ride with him? Oh, I really hope so. I'd want to get fucked, humiliated, and even even degraded a little. Everybody looks at me like I'm some kind of golden princess, destined to be treated with awe and respect.

In other words, David will not be hesitant. That much I know for sure.

However... In Case...

I sit up straight and reach for my handbag, where my phone is. Since he's going to have me wait in pain, it's only right that I share in it to some extent. Having thought it through, I laid flat on my back on the bed. The lighting provides a gentle, intimate picture of my body on my phone. I position it precisely, and turn the video on.

My nipples are plainly visible through the translucent red lace as the camera slowly pans over my lips and down my chest. Before continuing the journey south across my body, I snag the edge of the cloth and drag it down just enough to reveal the edge of one. It's a little uncomfortable, but I'm a pro and I take very steamy selfies.

I skim over the garters and draw a V with my fingers, framing my pussy, my slit plainly visible through the underwear, for a long minute before I finish the recording.

David's number has been on my phone for a long time, but the only time we've ever exchanged texts was just after I turned twenty-one and I cursed him out for interrupting my threesome. In retrospect, particularly after giving the texts just a cursory read, I can't help but grin a bit at the memories. The female going down on me had an unsuccessful orgasm, but it wasn't the only reason I was so angry.

The last message gives me a chuckle.

I said, "David, you owe me an orgasm for crying out loud.

Of course, he never got back to us. And after I sobered up the following day, I spent many hours thinking whether I should apologize or simply pretend it never happened.

This has me hoping beyond hope that my future holds not one but many orgasms. I give myself a little bottom lip bite and hit send on the video. After it has been confirmed as delivered, I turn off my phone, set it on the chair next to my handbag, and go back to where I was before.