Coffee, Tea or Me
I was working as a waitress at a cocktail bar in the Grand Budapest Hotel. Cocktail waitresses, especially in hotels get hit on all the time. It goes with the job. Attentive service, anticipating my clients needs, being helpful but not hovering, flirting, and wearing my skirts just short enough to keep your attention but long enough to cover the subject all lead to better tips. As I said, being hit on is just part of the game.
But he was different. The moment our eyes met. His steel gray eyes, with a gaze that went right through me. It gave me shivers. He was not the usual scotch and soda. He ordered dubonnet on the rocks with a twist. Working at the Grand Budapest, dom perignon was our house champagne. But as I said, he was different.
As the evening continued our eyes met time and again. Every time his glass was half full, I would offer another. His glances and gestures let me know he was a gentleman of distinction. I found myself wondering who he was, what he was doing in Budapest, and how long his stay would be. He settled his tab at last call. Besides a generous tip, he slipped his room key into his check folder; saying nothing more than, "Here mademoiselle, this is for you."
Twenty minutes later I was clocking out, still unsure what to do about this curious gentleman. Against my better judgment, I found myself taking the elevator up to a fourth floor plaza suite. My hand shook as I put the key in the door. I opened the door and he said, "Good, I hoped you would come by." He had changed from his pinstriped button down, to a smoking jacket. He welcomed me in.
I can not remember what either of us said next, but he had me at the door. After we exchanged pleasantries, there was nothing left but attraction. He was everything I was not; mature, sophisticated, suave. He took my hand and led me to the bedroom. He touched the side of my face, and we kissed. A long, wet, deep French kiss. A lover's kiss. With one continuous motion he unbuttoned my blouse. He began at the nape of my neck and kissed every inch of me. Slowly, tenderly, passionately. Not hurried or forced or rushed. He took his time. I was weak in the knees. I came the first time before I even had my panties off. He was a man who knew what he wanted, and was willing to take his time to get there.
I opened his smoking jacket, and loosened his belt. I got on my knees to give back some of the pleasure he was giving me. Want to hear the rest of the story? Better yet, want to live the rest of the story? Come visit me today let your mind run wild, free and dirty!
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