It's been a really long time. I wasn't really sure that I had any more of these left in me, for it seemed like I'd already said everything that I could say over the years. But recently I found new inspiration and the rest was history. I hope you enjoy it.
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The hotel doors open with a whoosh, and I step outside. The air is crisp, this late summer evening. It's going to be dark soon. But in the twilight I can still see the leaves, starting to turn yellow. It'll be winter all too soon, I'm afraid.
But the thought of another frigid Winnipeg winter is the last thing on my mind this evening. For you see, I've just left her hotel room. I have a spring in my step and a smile on my face. I'm almost about to bust out and whistle a tune. Maybe it's a dark cool almost fall evening all around me, but in my mind it's a sunny and warm spring day, full of promise.
She makes me happy. Really, really happy. Sometimes it feels like my heart is going to burst. But I know feeling this wonderful is a little bit wrong, in this crazy hobby I have. I have to rein my feelings in. I have to keep my perspective. I have to not obsess over her. I need to keep things light when I'm with her. Or, at least I tell myself that every time I go see her. But as soon as I enter her door, she always draws me close enough for me to smell her faint perfume. She kisses me as if I haven't seen her in months, although it's never been long. She asks how I've been and listens carefully. I know she remembers our talks and it seems like she remembers everything we say.
She acts like an old friend, a dear friend, which I guess is what she's become to me. But wait. There's more, as they say in the commercials. She then brings me even closer. Finally we're skin to skin, and our tongues do their familiar slow tango. She brings me inside her. Words fall away then for both of us. Her eyes are half closed and unseeing. Her breath becomes shallow and rapid. Her face flushes, her pulse quickens. She's enjoying this as much as I am.
I've always hated it when the ladies fake those last frenzied few minutes. I wish that they all could be honest about this. My ego is not so fragile that it would be shattered by knowing that I didn't make the lady cum. But I know why they do this. It's just another little stroke of the ego, another little part of the business, a little flourish to make your time a little more enjoyable. She never fakes it with me. I can tell. Or perhaps I'm a willing participant in my delusion. But I don't think so. Still, I might well be the second, or third, or more man to cross her doorstep today. I don't really want to know. But it seems so hard to believe that this happens with all of them. Well, perhaps not quite all, but you know what I mean.
Afterwards, we curl up together. We catch our breath. Our skin cools and we whisper our little secrets to each other, as we punctuate our words with little kisses and touches.
I know she's well loved, in every sense of the word. The merest mention of her name on the review boards always draws an enthusiastic response. So many of them say the things that I could, and have, said about her. How truly wonderful she is. How she has so much love to give.
I truly don't know how she does it. Because this is a business transaction. This is a service, albeit a very personal one. Yet it is much more than that with her, for me. She truly cares. I bask in her warmth every time I see her, which is not nearly as much as I would like to. She gives so much more than she has to. It's not just her body, but her attention, her compassion, her kindness. It seems like she has limitless amounts of love, for me and for all the others. It would be way too easy to fall, and fall hard. But I'm sure that so many others have felt the same way about her that I do. I have to presume she's done many of the same things with them. And knowing that I'm not so special that way helps keep me on the side of the angels.
Still, feeling loved is addictive. I completely get that from her. I can get luv any old place, or so it seems. She offers so much more. And knowing that I'm not the only one, not by a long shot, doesn't diminish the feelings I have when I'm with her. She's truly special to me.
I get to my car, unlock it and get in. I turn to look up at her room window, and see the light dim. She's back at work already. I grin, and start the car.
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The hotel doors open with a whoosh, and I step outside. The air is crisp, this late summer evening. It's going to be dark soon. But in the twilight I can still see the leaves, starting to turn yellow. It'll be winter all too soon, I'm afraid.
But the thought of another frigid Winnipeg winter is the last thing on my mind this evening. For you see, I've just left her hotel room. I have a spring in my step and a smile on my face. I'm almost about to bust out and whistle a tune. Maybe it's a dark cool almost fall evening all around me, but in my mind it's a sunny and warm spring day, full of promise.
She makes me happy. Really, really happy. Sometimes it feels like my heart is going to burst. But I know feeling this wonderful is a little bit wrong, in this crazy hobby I have. I have to rein my feelings in. I have to keep my perspective. I have to not obsess over her. I need to keep things light when I'm with her. Or, at least I tell myself that every time I go see her. But as soon as I enter her door, she always draws me close enough for me to smell her faint perfume. She kisses me as if I haven't seen her in months, although it's never been long. She asks how I've been and listens carefully. I know she remembers our talks and it seems like she remembers everything we say.
She acts like an old friend, a dear friend, which I guess is what she's become to me. But wait. There's more, as they say in the commercials. She then brings me even closer. Finally we're skin to skin, and our tongues do their familiar slow tango. She brings me inside her. Words fall away then for both of us. Her eyes are half closed and unseeing. Her breath becomes shallow and rapid. Her face flushes, her pulse quickens. She's enjoying this as much as I am.
I've always hated it when the ladies fake those last frenzied few minutes. I wish that they all could be honest about this. My ego is not so fragile that it would be shattered by knowing that I didn't make the lady cum. But I know why they do this. It's just another little stroke of the ego, another little part of the business, a little flourish to make your time a little more enjoyable. She never fakes it with me. I can tell. Or perhaps I'm a willing participant in my delusion. But I don't think so. Still, I might well be the second, or third, or more man to cross her doorstep today. I don't really want to know. But it seems so hard to believe that this happens with all of them. Well, perhaps not quite all, but you know what I mean.
Afterwards, we curl up together. We catch our breath. Our skin cools and we whisper our little secrets to each other, as we punctuate our words with little kisses and touches.
I know she's well loved, in every sense of the word. The merest mention of her name on the review boards always draws an enthusiastic response. So many of them say the things that I could, and have, said about her. How truly wonderful she is. How she has so much love to give.
I truly don't know how she does it. Because this is a business transaction. This is a service, albeit a very personal one. Yet it is much more than that with her, for me. She truly cares. I bask in her warmth every time I see her, which is not nearly as much as I would like to. She gives so much more than she has to. It's not just her body, but her attention, her compassion, her kindness. It seems like she has limitless amounts of love, for me and for all the others. It would be way too easy to fall, and fall hard. But I'm sure that so many others have felt the same way about her that I do. I have to presume she's done many of the same things with them. And knowing that I'm not so special that way helps keep me on the side of the angels.
Still, feeling loved is addictive. I completely get that from her. I can get luv any old place, or so it seems. She offers so much more. And knowing that I'm not the only one, not by a long shot, doesn't diminish the feelings I have when I'm with her. She's truly special to me.
I get to my car, unlock it and get in. I turn to look up at her room window, and see the light dim. She's back at work already. I grin, and start the car.
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