Sunday Quickie: Hotel Siren


I’d been traveling all over for business. Chicago, Minneapolis, Washington, Miami. Too many places to name. In one of those cities, I had an encounter I’ll never forget.

I was at the hotel, walking along the balcony with a much too bitter coffee in one hand and a leather portfolio case in the other. The sun was too bright for early morning, but felt nice on my bare arms. I wore a slim pencil skirt with a slit up one side, a pink sateen blouse, and three-inch patent leather heels.

Exactly one door down from my room, I saw her through the window. She had the blinds open all the way, and she was completely naked. One foot was propped up on the window sill, her opposite arm stretched out behind her head. She had lovely tanned skin, a tattoo of roses and dragons crawling up one side of her torso, and hip length black hair.

And she had a vibrator pressed against her bare pussy.

Of course I stopped and gawked. I might look and talk feminine, but I have the sex drive of a man. And I happen to like other women.

I gave her a smile, to let her know I appreciated the early morning show. She blew me a kiss and pressed her hand against the window. I set down my portfolio, and returned the kiss. I put my hand on the window against hers.

And then she motioned me to come inside. How could I refuse? I picked up the portfolio and waited for her to open the door. Inside, I introduced myself.

“Kate,” I said.

“Sylvia,” she said, closing the door behind me.

And like that, I instantly liked her. She was so beautiful, almost as tall as I am in heels, with a luxuriant body and a warm smile. I set the portfolio against the wall and left my coffee next to the TV, which was playing a raunchy video featuring two blondes in a sixty-nine position. She had an array of sex toys spread out on the bed—dildos, vibrators, a riding crop.

I pecked Sylvia on the lips. Just a friendly meeting of lips, which turned into a co-mingling of tongues, and then we were in each other’s arms. In the back of my brain, where my business sense resides, I wondered if this was a bad idea.

But my sex drive won out and pummeled my common sense into a pulp. You only live once.

I grabbed her by the ass with both hands and pressed her warm body against mine. She was firm and muscular everywhere. No dainty morsel here. Sylvia ran her fingers through my hair. Out of breath, she told me I was beautiful and sexy as hell. She whispered in my ear, like she was telling me her darkest secret, that she wanted to fuck me.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I melted a little. Then and there, I decided I was really staying for a few minutes, or maybe longer, even though I had meetings to attend and asses to kiss. And I liked the idea of getting caught by random gawkers who passed the window.

As if we were both thinking the same thing, we went to the window. I faced the outside world, and she faced me. I laid my hands on Sylvia’s shoulders, and pushed her to her knees. I unzipped my skirt and dropped it to the floor. Then I dropped my panties too, exposing my trimmed runway.

Sylvia wasted little time. She barely knew me, knew nothing of what I liked or didn’t like, but that didn’t stop her. I find that women understand other women’s bodies instinctively. Or perhaps I’ve just had the good luck to encounter ladies who are turned on by the same things I enjoy.

She started slow, rubbing me on the labia and flicking her tongue across my clit. I ran my fingers through her hair, keeping her head to my pussy, where I wanted her. Between her love and the sounds of hot moaning from the porno in the background, I was worked up and wet quickly.

I turned around, and picked up a blue vibrator and the riding crop. I handed Sylvia the toy and told her to use it on me. She took one look at the crop, smirked impishly as if she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and then responded to my demand. The vibrator had a lovely, steady pulse and was just the right size for my tunnel. Big enough to fill me, small enough to hit the right spots.

I smacked her ass with the riding crop.

Sylvia yelped in pain, but didn’t stop licking or fucking me with the toy. If anything, her playing became more frantic now, like she was more desperate to please me. I smacked her on the other cheek. And then she set the vibrator to a higher setting, with a faster rhythm and a stronger punch.

My thigh muscles tightened, my scream was drowned out by the porno. My stomach felt like butterflies. My head felt light. And then my pussy contracted. I came. Nobody passed by the window, for better or worse. That was some random stranger’s loss, especially if the stranger was a man.

I whipped her again for good measure, and thanked her.

“No, thank you,” Sylvia said. She stood up slowly, her knees wobbling. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

I kissed her on the mouth. “Provided management doesn’t kick us both out.”

“Well,” she said. “We don’t want that.”

Sylvia pulled the curtains shut tight. I drew her into my arms and held her, enjoying the sweet afterglow.

Eventually, I had to let her go, with the promise of more later. I had every intention to finish my business meetings early.

I made good on that intention, and was back in Sylvia’s room after a light dinner that night.

A few days later, I had to move on, and so did she. We keep in touch, but it’s more of a chatty relationship now. Every so often I think back on those wonderful days I spent with Sylvia, and all the wicked things she did to me and I did to her. I keep asking now and then if she’d like to relive that time, but we haven’t made it happen yet.

Of all the sexy encounters I’ve had in my adult life, Sylvia is still my favorite. Every time I walk past a hotel room window, I think of her.


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Author: D. Anthony Brown

Indie writer and publisher. Among other jack-of-all-trade skills...

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