Choosing Her Lover

Chapter 8

*****

The following day after work, I have plans. After the previous day’s frustrations, I’m feeling horny as hell. And as luck would have it, I already have an evening arranged with one of my ‘regulars’, Paul.

I see Paul typically once or twice a month, and we enjoy our frolics together. He’s good-looking, doesn’t want any complications and he works magic with his tongue….

My pussy already purring in anticipation of the evening to come, I pick out my little black dress to wear, hanging it out ready, put on my makeup, and brush out my dark hair, leaving it long and loose, the way I know Paul likes. Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

My laptop bings, an e-mail coming in; it’s from Paul. “Hi Babe. Sorry, can’t make it tonight.”

Damn!

“That’s ok, Paul. Another night later this week?”

“Sorry, Babe. I’ve met someone. It’s serious. I’ll not be hanging out with you again. Hope we’re still friends?”

Oh Hell. I’ll miss him. Still, what can you do?

“Of course we’re still friends. Hope it works out. You know where to find me if it doesn’t.”

“Thanks, Babe. I’ll remember that xx”

There goes my evening. I’m all dressed up and nowhere to go.

Perhaps I should go to the Club? I’m by myself, and as a single woman there, there’s nothing surer than that I’ll get laid….

*****

The Club is busy tonight, a crowd milling around me. I scan the room, seeing some familiar faces amid the throng. Now, who….

A hand nudges my elbow. “Hi, Debbie. By yourself?”

It’s Steve. I can’t stand the man. No way is he shoving his dick inside me.

“Hello, Steve. No, I’m just waiting for someone.” I’m lying of course. Steve is known for being pushy. I see no reason to be polite.

Steve lurks by me for a few minutes while I pointedly ignore him, before he takes the hint and takes himself away.

I cradle my drink, letting my gaze sweep the floor.

Ah…. Dan and Borje. The pair work as a team these days and can be a lot of fun. I make my way across the room. Dan spots me as I approach, breaking into a white-toothed smile.

“Hi, Debbie. Want to join us?”

Then I spot their companion, a girl; she’s rather attractive, but looks at me daggers, despite Dan’s and then Borje’s beaming welcome.

“Er, not tonight, Guys.” I say. “You know me. I’m a men-only player.”

Borje shrugs. “Fair enough. Another time, eh? We’ll be downstairs if you want to watch. Amy here has never had two together before.”

“I might do that.” But instead, as the two head off with ‘Amy’ in tow, feeling miffed, I head for the bar, ordering myself a second large gin and tonic.

It’s not looking as though it’s going to be my night.

My phone bings again.

It’s Ryan….

“hi am in town unexpected. u want 2 meet up?”

My evening is rescued. Immediately I tap a reply.

“wud luv 2 meet u. at the bar again? have drink 1st?”

“prefer meal if good 4 u? u suggest restaurant. hotel after?”

“meal good. hotel good. restaurant name of bailey’s’. off town sq’”

“gr8 c u @ 8pm”

This is my second meeting with Ryan. I’m not going to call it a date since we both know what we are meeting for. The meal is a prelude, but the main event will be in the hotel room.

He said after we met the first time that, knowing my tastes better now, he would come prepared.

Wonder what he’s got in mind….?

And how should I dress? Would the outfit I’m wearing now be over the top? Worn for the Club environment, it plunges at the top and allows easy access from the bottom.

We both know what we are meeting for, so…. no, I don’t think so…

*****

I step into the restaurant to see Ryan there ahead of me, waiting. His glance travels the length of my body, an admiring glint in his eye.

“Good evening.” he smiles, stepping forward to kiss me on the cheek. “You’re looking good.”

“So are you.” And it’s true. His sculpted features emphasise his deep brown, almost black eyes. His dark hair catches auburn highlights from the chandeliers above us. And his clothes are fresh and immaculate, with just that mix of smart and casual that is sheer cat nip to my libido. As he kisses me I inhale the fragrance of him; a heady mixture of his own delicious scent and some expensive body- wash.

“I booked us a table,” he says. “Shall we….”

The food is good, the champagne is great and the company even better.

“I thought you said,” I start, “that you only travel to this part of the country about once a month. And yet here you are, only a week after our first meeting?”

He shrugs. “I make my own timetable. If it suits me to have my meetings here at different intervals I can.”

He eyes me, speculatively.

“What?” I ask.

He says nothing, still watching me.

“What? What is it?”

He sips from his glass. “If you knew what I was going through my head right now, you’d probably slap me.”

“Really? You think?”

I pick out a strawberry, dipping it in cream, then very slowly, holding his eyes, suck it from its stalk.”

His eyes follow my every movement. “You should drink up your coffee,” he says.

“Are we in a hurry?”

“I am. This table’s going to be lifting off the floor very soon.”