Our eyes lock across the room.

This bar is particularly quiet, but it’s sleek, jazzy and sensual. It’s a go-to place of mine, but I haven’t seen you before. You are an enigma to me, with the graze of dark stubble along your jaw and your top shirt buttons undone, nursing a glass of something expensive in your hand.

I like how you look at me. I don’t even have to ask to know what you’re thinking: the things you want to do to me as they slide up and down my frame. Not sleazy, but appreciative, the kind that makes me belly warm. The kind that makes me want to melt into your arms and let those strong hands explore my body. I hope my eyes express the same to you. Thoughts of unbuckling your belt and taking you into my mouth are racing through my mind already.

Looking to the corridor leading to the bathrooms, I hop off my stool, clutch bag in hand, my eyes not leaving yours as I walk, a slight tilt of my head a silent invitation: Come with me.

Discretion is important here. We don’t want to get caught. You know that. Walking down the hall, hips swaying, I don’t have to look behind me to feel your gaze burning through my dress, but I look over my shoulder anyway. It’s more fun that way. There you are, strolling not too far behind me.

It doesn’t matter which bathroom I head to, they’re all marked ‘LAVATORY’, clicking it open and sliding through the gap. Inside is a whole room for one person, a velvet chaise adorning the fine carpets, a sink and mirror with all the adornments of soap, spare perfume, along with a cubicle for the toilet in the corner. Plenty of room for an illicit meeting.

The door opens. You slide in just like I did and lock the door, leaving us cut off from everyone else. I don’t say a word as my lips meet yours. You kiss me back fervent, your arms wrapping tight around my waist as mine do around your shoulders, my hand winding into your hair. We stumble back, pressing you against the door as your tongue slides between my lips, exploring my mouth with a curious urgency. We never part as you hike up my skirt and I unbuckle your belt, for you to trail your kisses down my neck.

I reach round to my clutch for a condom before discarding the clutch to the floor. You roll my underwear down my stocking and suspender clad legs as I pull your trousers to your knees. I unbutton your shirt and you reach around to unzip my dress, yanking it and my bra down, pulling me smack against your solid torso as you take my nipple into your mouth, squeezing my breast, circling with your tongue. I gasp, a soft moan rippling up my throat. You growl, my hand massaging your hard cock, freeing it from your boxers and stroking in my hand.

Tearing the foil packet, you stop and step back, shirt open, eyes dark as you watch me roll the condom on. The second it’s ready, you take me by the waist, lifting and spinning me round, pinning me against the door. Lifting my leg against your hip, your lips brush against mine when you sink inside me, both of us moaning as you do.

You move in a strong and steady rhythm. You’re passionate, reverent even, your already strong hold on me tightening all the more as you fill me. I cling to your shoulders, enveloped in your expensive, piny aftershave. My breasts crush against your chest, bouncing as you lean back and watch as you fuck me. Our breath shallows, me pulling you to me by your shirt and kissing you hungrily, capturing each others moans. You move harder and I gasp. You take me for everything I have, broad shoulders taut, sweat gathering on your chest. I love the sounds you make. If I never see you again, I want to bottle those sounds in my mind and never let them leave.

When you pull out, I wonder what you’re doing. Don’t deny me… Please… But to my glee, you get down on your knees, stroking the flat of your tongue against my clit. You lap at my wetness, propping my leg over your shoulder, flicking back and forth relentlessly until I’m quivering and whimpering against you, my hand bunching in your soft hair. When you rise and kiss me, I taste myself on your tongue as you slide back into me.

My hips slam against yours, your pace harder and faster with no room for gentleness. Good. I don’t want you to be gentle. Let our primal instincts unravel, handsome stranger. Let us give into them. Neither of us care how loud we are. Let the others hear, I think. Let’s give them something to talk about. You bury your face in my neck, biting hard. I whimper. Your breath slides down my spine and your hips jerk, speeding up, your body stiffening against mine. Your grunts growing louder, I pull the fistful of your hair in my hand as your climax grates against my skin, unleashing all your stress and tension from the day into me.

We slump against each other, just holding each other in our arms as our breath steadies. When it does, I help you dress while we kiss. You zip me back up with kisses along my shoulder, up the back of my neck and around my lips. You even straighten my hair back to its former glory in the mirror, perfuming me with a gaze so reverent I feel elevated, floating on clouds, rather than in the fancy bathroom of an upmarket bar.

With a final, deep kiss, you flash a mischievous grin, straightening your collar and unlocking the door, sliding out and back into the unsuspecting bar.

All without a word.

*If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee, commissioning erotic fiction or subscribing to my Patreon for exclusive erotica. Thanks!