The Dress Fitting

Dylan Yang lay on the white cotton sheets on a king size bed in room 319 in the Marriot hotel.

One hand above his head and the other resting on his smooth chest. A French cigarette rested between two fingers, emitting a trail of misty smoke in the dimly lit room.

A slim pale arm draped across his hard, abs and the owner of the arm rested face down beside him, bare back and long, silky black hair spread out over her shoulders.

The white sheet covered the woman's round behind, and she sighed soft noises of satisfaction as she slept.

Dylan looked at the red bite marks on the girl's back and shoulders and took another drag of his cigarette, before putting it out.

He turned on his side, running an open hand over the girl's soft hair, inserting his fingers between the strands and let the softness, fall between his fingers.